Room and Board
by sillynekorobs
Summary: In the chaos of life at Haven University, Jak and Daxter meet for the first time. Will the new roommates come out as best friends, or something a little more?
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I have been waiting to start this one for literally years. And now, like Rafiki says, _it is time! _Big thanks to Amaronith and Grimreaperchibi for nudging me to finally get started on it. And a huge thanks to Sej, who helped me bounce ideas and hammer out the plot once upon a time, and for that I'm grateful.

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

"Well, Jak my boy, there you have it. Your home away from home."

The green-blonde teen pushed the hair back from his face as he surveyed the small dorm room, painstakingly set up with the contents of a stack of discarded cardboard boxes. Not bad at all, for only a couple hours of work. "It looks great, Uncle. Thanks for sticking around to help me unpack everything."

"I only regret I can't stay longer. Will you be able to get your books purchased today? Find where your classes will be held? What about dinner?"

"There's a cafeteria two floors under us. I think I'll survive." Jak chuckled fondly as the old man puttered around the room, checking everything once more. "Shouldn't you be heading out? You'll miss your flight."

"Flight? Oh, oh yes, of course…"

Jak's smile faded as he watched his uncle's face turn almost pensive. "What's the matter?"

"Well, my boy, it just seems as though I'm always dashing off to catch a flight, or a train, or a cab—ever since you were small, it's been that way. And now I look at you, going into _college_, and… you're all grown up, Jak. I'm just regretting where all that time has gone, I suppose."

"Hey, somebody promised this morning that they weren't going to cry, remember?" Jak prodded playfully, but the corners of his own eyes were stinging as his uncle adjusted his monocle to swipe a handkerchief underneath. So he fixed the problem by grabbing the stuffy old gentleman up so that his feet dangled a full inch off the floor and hugging him tightly. "You know you've been the best uncle ever, right? You got a surprise kid dumped in your lap and you took care of me like I was actually your responsibility. I couldn't ask for more than that."

"Jak—boy—can't breathe—!"

Jak set him back down and tugged insolently at a tuft of the old man's wrap-around moustache. "So save your breath for when you have to explain to your editors that you missed your plane and couldn't write up that awesome story because you were crying over your baby nephew going away to college."

"Yes, yes, I get the point. I'll be on my way, then."

"Hang on, I'll walk you back to the car." Jak remembered at the last moment to grab his new lanyard from the desk—he would have to get used to carrying keys and ID card with him so he wouldn't find himself locked out of his own room. The elevator was clogged with a line of students moving pushcarts of belongings, so they took the stairs down to the dorm lobby and out into the bright August sunshine.

"Be sure not to lose the key to the storage unit," the old man reminded as they headed down crowded sidewalks to the parking garage. "You'll want your bike soon enough, I'm sure. It'll save you a pretty sum in gas expenses."

"Yes, Uncle."

"And you're sure you've collected enough quarters to get you through the laundry room for a while?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"And you know that if you need anything, anything at all, you can—"

"Call you, no matter what time it is, even if I think you'll be busy. Yes, Uncle." Jak threw an arm around his uncle's shorter shoulders as they walked into the shadowed interior of the parking garage. "Don't worry, I'm gonna be fine. The phone works both ways, you know. You can call me if you feel like it. And don't forget to call when your plane lands, now that I'm thinking about it."

"Of course, dear boy. I always do."

Then the moment that Jak had half believed wouldn't come, came. Hugs were exchanged. He was given one last pat on the back. His uncle climbed into the car and, with a final wave through the window, backed out of the spot and drove away. The green-blonde teen watched as the sedan rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, heading out of the garage toward the main road.

"Hey, get out of the way, man!"

The blare of a horn made Jak jump to the side as if he'd been shot. "Whoa, sorry!" It would probably be a good idea to get out of the parking garage now. He vaulted the stone partition wall, cut through a borderland of planted flowers, and found himself back on the sidewalk.

Said sidewalk was still crowded. The sun was still bright and hot. But now that he was unquestionably alone, four hours away from the only place he had ever called home, his enthusiasm for the new and exciting was already beginning to flag. Jak sighed, looking back toward the dorm. It was past time for lunch. If he understood the way his new meal card worked, he needed to use the lunch points on it before the kitchens switched to dinner prep, or the points would be lost. He needed to eat, and there was no sense in letting seven bucks worth of meal points go down the drain just because he suddenly felt homesick.

Homesick.

Jak's hand automatically fell to the outline of a cell phone in his pocket. His best gal pal was number two on the speed dial. Talking to Keira for a few minutes would make him feel better for sure. The phone was out and his thumb poised over the button when reason prevailed. This wasn't his first day of Kindergarten, for crying out loud. If he couldn't handle even five minutes of being on his own as a responsible, functioning adult, how was the rest of the year going to turn out? Resolutely, he put the phone away. He could call Keira that evening, after everything else was taken care of. He was Jak Mar, dammit, and he could handle the college scene.

**oooooooooo**

Back in the dorm, the line for the elevator was still obscenely long. Jak wasn't much bothered by that, though. As a student athlete, he'd been drilling, running, and working out for most of the summer already. A few stairs were no big deal. He was taking them two at a time when, between floors two and three, he sensed a disturbance in the stairwell.

"Stupid freakin' bag, come _on!_"

Jak turned a sharp corner onto the landing and looked up. Near the top of the stairs just above him, a slim redhead was fighting to pull a large duffle bag up the steps. As Jak watched, the other boy gave a sharp tug at the bag's strap. The bag swung up beside him for a fraction of a second, then slid back down the stairs, pulling the boy still clinging to the strap into a stumble.

"Whoa, whoa—!" He windmilled his arms desperately, hung precariously in the air for a precious second… and fell backwards, pulled off balance by the heavy backpack slung over his shoulder.

Jak was already moving. He leapt up the stairs, threw out a hand, and managed to plant it between the redhead's shoulder blades. Backpack and duffle bag crashed down the steps to the landing, but their owner remained relatively unscathed; feet braced against the edge of the step he had been standing on and upper body supported at an almost horizontal angle by Jak's strong arm.

The yell of panic changed mid-syllable to one of surprise. "Aaaahh!—huh?"

Jak shifted so he could look downward and was met by a pair of upside down, very confused blue eyes. "It's okay, I got you. Hang on a second." Grinning, he carefully walked up the steps, pushing the boy more upright as he went until both parties were standing safely. "There you go. That was pretty close, huh?"

Still buzzing adrenaline, the redhead stared at Jak for a moment as he panted for breath. He raised both hands to drag through his disheveled hair, looked down at his bags sprawled on the landing, and looked back up at Jak. "Uh… thanks."

"No problem." Jak quickly noticed that the other boy was not only quite slim, he was also several inches shorter than him. The kid looked less like a college student than a high school freshman. "Do you need some help with all this?"

"Well, uh—"

Without waiting for an answer Jak trotted back down for the wayward bags. Grabbing one in each hand, he hefted them easily and joined the redhead at the top of the stairs in seconds.

The other boy's eyes were wide. "Wow. Yer pretty strong, there, big fella."

"Thanks. I work out." It felt nice to hear someone call him big, even if it was only a high schooler. Jak may have been a football player, but he certainly wasn't the biggest or tallest on the field. His unassuming stature belied his talent, to the dismay of rival teams. "Here, let me give you a hand. These bags are almost as heavy as you are. Trust me, I'm in a position to know."

The redhead's mouth opened indignantly, then closed with a snap. He nodded curtly. "Fine, whatever."

They stepped out of the stairwell onto the third floor. Jak handed back the bags, careful not to let go of them too quickly. He didn't want to see the other boy's arms pulled out of their sockets. "So, where are you going with those? Are you helping your big brother move in today?"

The glare the smaller guy turned on him could have curdled milk. "Ha, ha. Very funny, smart ass."

Jak's ears wilted so fast there was a breeze. Open mouth, insert foot. "Uh, jeez—I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to be funny, I swear! It's just that you're, um, you're kind of—"

"Yeah, I'm _little_. I get that a lot." No softening of the insulted glare as the not-high-school-student shouldered his backpack.

"S-so, you're gonna be living on this floor?" Jak tried desperately to diffuse the situation. "So am I! Maybe we can be friends. What's your name?"

The redhead stared hard at him for a few moments, his frown suspicious. Finally he shrugged flippantly. "I'm Daxter. Not Dexter, _Dax-_ter, Daxter with an 'A,' ya dig? Now, you gonna point me toward room three-seventeen, or was the nice guy act all fer show?"

Jak's arm was actually in motion to point the way when something clicked in his brain. "Three-seventeen?"

"Did I stutter?" the redhead asked sourly. "Listen, if ya don't know, I'll just go find somebody who—"

"No, no, wait a second!" Jak maneuvered around to block the way, suddenly too cheerful to keep being embarrassed over his own social ineptitude. "I'm Jak. Jak without a 'C.' And I'm your roommate."

For a long moment the two stared at each other. Jak's smile held when the redhead broke eye contact to fish a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Room three-seventeen… double occupancy… Jak Mar. Huh." He looked back up at Jak with a quirky little smirk that showed a hint of his front teeth. "And here I thought that was a typo."

"So did the nurse who filled out my birth certificate. Or so I've been told."

There was a surprised snicker from the redhead, and his ears started to drift up from their defensive slant. "Yeah, I bet."

Jak thanked his lucky stars. If he was going to have to live with this guy for the next eight and a half months, he didn't want to get on his bad side on the first day. "Come on, I'll show you the way to our room. Where's the rest of your stuff?"

"Eh, I got a suitcase down in the lobby. The line fer the elevator goes clear out the door an' half way ta Jupiter, so no way I'm waitin' fer that thing. I'll just drag it up the stairs."

Jak refrained from making comments about how successful the last attempt to drag something up the stairs had been. Instead, he picked up the duffle bag at the other boy's—Daxter's—feet and led the way down the hall, dodging the scurries of other new residents rushing to and fro. "Just one suitcase?"

"Yeah. I, uh… I didn't bring a lot…"

"That's not a bad thing. You can go out and get what you don't have. I think my uncle tried to pack our whole house for me. He kept sneaking stuff into my luggage and now I've gotta find space for all of it." He was rambling. Needed to stop rambling. "Hey, you know, I could go down and get your suitcase if you want. So you can get started unpacking."

"Well, uh… sure. I guess. If ya really want to. Ya don't need to, or anything. I can get it myself."

"It's no big deal. I'm already unpacked."

Room 317 was on the west side of the third floor of Praxis Hall. It was a good room, Jak thought; a straight shot in from the west stairs, four rooms down from the showers, and in the lounge nearby there were vending machines and a large TV. Jak was sure Daxter would like it, too. He held the duffle bag away from his side to fish the keys out of his pocket.

Daxter eyed him as he juggled the bag. "Sheesh, yer swingin' that thing around like it's full'a marshmallows. You off in the weight room benchin' insane amounts every other hour or somethin'?"

_I could bench _you_ pretty easy_, Jak wanted to say. Instead he just smiled. "Nah, not really. I'm on the football team. I was at the university training camp last month, then went home until today. Coach Sig runs us pretty hard, so it's a great workout."

Daxter was silent as Jak unlocked the door and they stepped, for the first time, into the space they would be sharing for the long haul. Jak moved aside to let his roommate through and sat the duffle bag on the rug as an afterthought.

"I'll run down and get your other bag. It's no problem, really. Where'd you leave it?"

"It's by the front desk." The redhead's tone was somehow resigned. "Just tell 'em yer the goofy-lookin' kid's roommate, I bet they'll give it to ya."

"Sure. I'll be right back!" Since Daxter was still in the room, Jak didn't bother to shut the door. He just slipped back out into the hallway, into the flow of laughing, chatting residents, and headed for the stairs. Contrary to his recent mope, the day seemed to be shaping up pretty nicely after all.

- / - / - / - / -

A football player. Daxter was still reeling as he dumped out the contents of his duffle on top of the empty set of dresser drawers. That was just freakin' great. Out of the thousands of new freshman flooding the damn place the week before classes, he had to get paired up with a football player.

How many times during the past four years of purgatory known collectively as high school had a jock been at the root of his misfortune? And football players could be some of the worst! They were the idols of the school. The other athletes bowed to them. They stalked the halls with impunity, introducing small, redheaded, bucktoothed kids to the fronts of lockers and bathroom stalls at high speed as often as they pleased. Even though he had heard time and again that college was nothing like high school, surely the fundamental basics of the food chain wouldn't have changed in the three months since graduation.

Daxter heaved a deep sigh and collapsed against the dresser, thunking his forehead into the cool wood. "Suuuuck."

"You okay?"

The voice made him jerk his head up. In the mirror mounted over the two sets of drawers, he could see his new roommate in the doorway. The stuffed suitcase that Daxter had had real trouble dragging to the lobby from a taxi cab hung effortlessly from one of the green-blonde's brawny arms. He swallowed reflexively. "Uh…"

Jak sat the suitcase on the floor next to Daxter's backpack with surprising care. "What's the matter? Did you forget to pack something? Because there's a bus that runs close to a department store near here. I was gonna go later today and stock up on some snacks. We can go together, if you want."

Daxter finally turned to look at the other properly. This guy could not be serious. "Don't you have, like, a _team_ ta hang out with or somethin'?"

It had been years since he had thought twice about the sharpness of his tongue. Something about the immediate downward tilt of Jak's ears and the disappearance of his smile, however, made Daxter regret the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.

"Well, yeah, sure. I mean, I know those guys and everything, but… Never mind, I'm bothering you. Sorry. I'm going downstairs for lunch. I'll be back later."

"N-no, hey, wait!" For reasons unknown, Daxter was sorry. Yes, Jak was a football player. And he was sure to get mad at the redhead at some point, whereupon Daxter would begin his role as a personal in-room punching bag. But so far the green-blonde had been nothing but friendly to him. Like a mouse going out of its way to chew on the cat's toes, it would somehow go against the rules of the universe if Daxter were the one to begin hostilities between them. "I didn't mean it like that, big guy. I just, uh… don't want you feelin' like ya gotta hang out with me, or anything. No obligations there."

"Yeah, I know. I just thought we should get to know each other a little bit. You know, since we're going to be living together and all."

"Makes sense. And fer the record, I promise I don't hog air, sunlight, or space in the mini-fridge." Feeling ninety percent less guilty, Daxter began to pull open drawers. "If you wanna wait, I'll get lunch with ya. This shouldn't take long."

"Okay." Jak's ears drifted back up. "Cool. I can wait. You need help unpacking?"

"Nah, I got it. Like I said, there's not much."

With a nod, Jak dropped down on the edge of the bottom bunk. It seemed to be the one he had staked out for his own, as it was covered in a deep blue comforter and the mattress on the top bunk was bare. Ah, well. Daxter was more than familiar with the concept of bunk beds and didn't really care which level he slept on. A bed was a bed, after all.

"Hey, by the by," he said casually, "where do they hand out the blankets and stuff?"

Jak laughed. "I wish. It would have saved a lot of room in the car if I didn't have to drag the pillows and blankets along. They're not real easy to pack."

Daxter looked quickly up from his luggage. "Huh? Y'mean they…? Oooh." His heart, liver, and other vitals abruptly sank down with the folded clothes inside his suitcase. "Yeah. Can't blame a guy fer tryin', right?" Well, now he knew what he was buying that night. And where a good part of the hundred bucks he had to hold him over for the week until that financial aid check came through was going.

Before he could get too morose, though, there was a knock on the open door. Both Daxter and his new roomie looked up. In the doorway stood one of the strangest looking people the redhead had seen all day. Geometric tattoos marched up his ears from the middle, staining the pointed tips black. Auburn dreadlocks in neat rows swung to his shoulders, brushing a t-shirt that screamed "Fight the Power!"

Jak broke the silence. "Uh, hi. Can we help you?"

"Room 317… both occupants accounted for. Check." A clipboard was produced as their visitor marked down the note. "What are your names?"

"I'm Jak, and this is Daxter."

The redhead couldn't resist. "And you must be the campus superhero, Tattooed Wonder! Am I right?"

"Hello Jak, Daxter. I'm Torn," the dreaded man said in the bored tone of one who had already given the same spiel twenty times and had a dozen more to go. Completely ignoring Daxter, he pressed on. "Welcome to Praxis Hall, third floor west—that's 3W around here. I'll be your RA until next May. If you have any problems, questions, or concerns that don't involve the workings or lack thereof of the plumbing, heating, cooling, or elevator, please don't hesitate to break down the barricade I've constructed behind my door. There is a list of dorm rules available in the lobby. Break one and I'll staple that list to your forehead. Now play nice, and I'll catch you two later."

In the long moment it took to process what had just been said, the man turned and disappeared into the flow of hallway traffic. Daxter blinked slowly, then turned to look at the green-blonde beside him. Jak was staring right back. "Okay, some dude with tats on his ears and dreads down ta there just popped in here an' disappeared like beer on Friday night, right?"

Jak nodded emphatically. "Right."

"Good. Hate ta think I'm losin' my mind already."

**oooooooooo**

Whoever had said that college was nothing like high school was absolutely right, where food was concerned. The moment he and Jak had walked into the cafeteria on the main floor, Daxter had begun to drool. There was a counter with pizza and pasta. A counter for burgers, fries, and chicken strips. One for tacos and one for stir-fry. A salad bar that went on forever and had alfalfa sprouts on it. The refrigerated desserts were endless and the drink machines had twenty flavors.

The redhead had exactly five bucks in his pocket.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" Jak asked as they settled at a small table on the outdoor patio.

Daxter looked down at his single slice of cheese pizza and small soda. "Uh, yeah. I'm not super hungry right now, y'know? Must be all the stress of movin' day an' all. I'll get my appetite back later." A week later, to be precise. When that damn check came he was going to eat until he puked, just because he could.

"Whatever you say…"

Jak didn't say more on the subject, but halfway through his slice Daxter found that half a carton of fries had appeared on his plate. As he started on the crust a candy bar mysteriously materialized next to his tray. "Dude, what's up with this? Ya don't dig the chow here or somethin'?"

"Food's fine. I just have too much of it." Jak gestured to the remains of his lunch. "A burger, the fries, a side salad, a fruit cup, the drink, and two candy bars, and I barely spent all my meal points. If I don't use them all they're just gone, and my uncle wasted money. So help me eat this stuff, will you?"

"Well, that must suck. I guess I can help out." Beating down an ugly surge of jealousy with a stick, the redhead ripped open the chocolate bar. At least Jak had offered it to him rather than the birds or the trashcan across the courtyard. It was an unlooked for bonus.

The hot sun and the milky sweetness on his tongue made him mellow, and almost without realizing it Daxter began to relax. The day was bright. His most recent move was over. For the moment, he wasn't hungry. Classes wouldn't start for a week. There was no one to tell him what to do. The four years of hard work stretching out ahead of him seemed a million miles away. Starting right then, the Dax-man was officially on vacation. He was even in a good enough mood to grab Jak's tray of trash and dump it along with his own a few minutes later.

He was cutting back through the maze of patio tables, chairs, and bodies when the green-blonde laid off slurping the remainder of his soda and held up the cup.

"Hey, Daxter, go long!" Jak yelled over the crowd.

"Huh?" Dax looked up, eyes following the cup skyward as it left Jak's hand and sailed through the air in his direction. Made heavy enough by the ice inside, it spiraled beautifully as it made its descent. Hey, he could catch that! "I got it, I got it!" Caught in the moment, registering only the surprising fact that someone wanted him to play, he darted sideways and backpedaled until the cup landed perfectly in his grasp. Then he stumbled backwards into a table. "Whoa—!" From there it was a short trip to the concrete. "Oww…"

"Having fun down there?"

For the second time that day Daxter found himself horizontal, looking at someone upside down. This time, however, the face he was staring up into was anything but friendly. Reflexively he scrambled off the ground, intent on putting some distance between himself and the very angry guy with blue sports drink dripping down his chin and shirt. The empty bottle rolled past Daxter's foot.

The situation only got worse when the guy stood up. There would obviously be no scampering away into the safety of the crowd this time. Daxter's ears drooped at the abrupt realization that his newest crisis was taller than Jak, and just as ripped. The flush of anger on his similarly inked cheekbones stood out against his dark orange hair. His ears, tattooed similar to their RA's, were laid back in aggravation.

"I think somebody needs to learn why we don't run around like a fool on a crowded patio, you little punk," he growled.

Dax gulped. So much for hoping he wouldn't hit a fellow redhead. Then it was on to the first line of defense: apologizing. "Uh, he-heh, sorry about that. Didn't see ya there, pal."

"Well, I definitely see somewhere that I can _drown_ you!"

Daxter's eyes widened and he stepped back quickly, in the opposite direction of the large, ornate granite fountain at the center of the cafeteria patio. He ran smack into Jak.

"Looks like the one who needs to get wet here is you." Jak grinned cockily at the taller redhead as he dropped an arm around the shorter one's shoulders. "Might wash the blue off your face."

Daxter's mouth fell open, but no sound came out. Nuh-uh. This wasn't happening. The jock was _not_ trying to defend the loser. He looked up at Jak, searching for some confirmation that it was all some kind of joke, and he was about to go headfirst into yet another receptacle for those who angered bigger people. Jak didn't budge. The arm stayed on his shoulder, heavy and grounding, while the green-blonde's eyes remained fixed on their opponent.

"Get the hell out of my way."

"I really don't think so." Jak was still smiling, but it was a hard smile. "It was an accident. He just said sorry. And I'll apologize, too, because I'm the one who started it. This really isn't the place to be playing catch. It won't happen again. So let it go, huh?"

They were starting to attract attention, the stares and whispers of the occupants of several tables around them. The new boy seemed to realize it, too. He glared silently at Jak and Daxter for a moment more before turning away. "You're not worth my time, anyway. But, for the record, my name is Erol. And you'd better stay out of my way. Both of you."

"Yer bona fide crazy, is what ya are," Dax felt brave enough to mutter as Erol stalked away. "Sheesh, I hope he doesn't live in our dorm."

Jak's cocky smile melted away into a thoughtful frown. "Yeah. I wouldn't count on it, though. If he was out here, he probably does." His frown deepened. "There's something about that guy I don't like. It's kind of extreme to throw someone in a fountain over a spilled drink. I mean, sure, he had a right to be upset, but he honestly looked ready to pulverize you."

Daxter laughed weakly, rubbing at his upper arm. "Yeah, well. It's not as uncommon as you'd think." Many people enjoyed pulverizing shrimps like him. Including Jak, probably, when his blonde moment wore off and he realized that the redhead's clumsiness had made him look stupid in front of a crowd. It would be easy for him to pretend to be cool about the whole thing until they were back behind the obscurity of their shared door, and then wedge Daxter under a mattress for the rest of the night. Dax felt queasy at the thought. "Uh, listen, about all this, I'm—"

"Sorry about that, Daxter. It was my fault. I should have known better than to throw that with so many people around. Guess I just wasn't thinking." Jak tilted his head like an overgrown puppy trying to explain the carnage of an overturned china cabinet. He looked completely sincere. "I owe you one, okay?"

Owed him one. Jak owed _him_ one? After just preventing Psycho-saurus Rex from launching him into watery shame and oblivion? Obviously this guy had been hit in the head by one too many footballs. "… yeah. Sure. No problem."

"Cool." And Jak was smiling again, just like that, like he didn't have a care in the world. "Hey, did you want to go to the store?"

Daxter shook his head briskly and brushed off the moment of weird. Rolling with punches was one of his specialties. "Yeah. I need some sheets an' a pillow if my bunk ain't gonna look like a prison cot. Not that the cement blocks in the walls don't already lend ta the atmosphere."

"Alright. I'm heading back to the room to take inventory, then we can take off."

"Right behind ya, big guy." Literally. The football player would come in handy if they happened to run into that Erol guy again.

They cut back across the courtyard, Jak obliviously blazing a trail through the crowd and Daxter following in his wake. The redhead couldn't help but let his imagination go off on a tangent. Jak was like some sort of wild caveman, fearlessly taking on the challenges of the concrete jungle that was Haven University campus. And if he played his cards right, Dax might be able to use that to his advantage. His last thought was of Jak in a loincloth poking a spear at Torn the grumpy RA, who had somehow become a hissing saber tooth tiger with dreadlocks, and he grinned like an idiot all the way back to their room.

- / - / - / - / -

"Don't mock my stars, football boy. I got an awesome deal on these babies."

Jak chuckled as he watched his roommate crawl around on the top bunk, attempting the arduous task of putting bed sheets patterned with stars and moons on a mattress that was higher off the ground than he was. "I'm not laughing at your blankets from the kids' section, I'm laughing at you flopping around up there."

"Ha, ha. That makes it so much better."

Their shopping trip had been fruitful. The mini-fridge was now stocked with soda and sports drinks; the spare cabinet with chips and snacks. Jak had bought it all, and Daxter had promised not to nibble on what didn't belong to him, but the green-blonde wasn't dumb. He had more than realized that his new friend didn't have a lot of money to toss around. The idea of the already-skinny redhead not eating because of that didn't sit right with him. If he played it cool and stressed that there was more than enough food, surely he could get Daxter to share the haul.

With the blankets finally in place, Daxter dropped down on his stomach with his face in his new pillow. "Ah, little stars. I think we'll get along well together."

"I don't know, Dax. I still think you should have reconsidered the pink set with the fairy princess ponies on it."

The redhead flipped him off and snuggled further into his pillow. "In yer dreams. Maybe the planetary theme is all the push I need ta enroll fer the astronomy major. I'll be a famous astronaut and you'll just be a sad little football player, poor you."

Jak snorted, shoving the last box of ice cream bars into the small freezer. "If you say so." Then something occurred to him. "What is your major, anyway?"

"Undecided. General studies." Daxter peered down from his bed lazily. "I ain't here because I know what I wanna do, so much as I'm here because I didn't know what ta do next. Unlike you, I'm sure, mister wanna-be pro athlete."

"I have a backup plan, thanks very much." Jak inclined his ears haughtily and waited for the prodding "well?" before providing his answer. "I'm in phys ed. I'd be a coach in a high school, or something."

"You wanna be a jerk for a living? Whoa…"

"Not like that," Jak laughed. "I have no idea what else I'd want to be, so the least I can do is be a decent coach and make sure everybody has fun. Might have to kick a few parents' asses, though." He sighed. "Don't feel bad. I really don't have any concrete goals either. Not like my friend Keira. She leaves next week for Kras U. She's going into mechanics. Wants to open her own machine shop and everything."

"Is she hot?" Daxter grinned upside down, his head hanging off the edge of the bunk.

"Totally." Jak's answering grin abruptly disappeared. "Damn. I completely forgot to call her." He looked quickly at the clock. It wasn't yet eight thirty. "Sorry, Daxter. I'm going to go for a walk and call Keira."

"Yeah, yeah." With a smirk, the redhead righted himself and stretched. "You go call yer little hottie mechanic. I'm gonna brush my teeth an' scope the bathrooms. There better be at least five showers in there or I'm gonna go gripe that RA's inked ear off."

A quick salute to his roommate and Jak headed for the lobby, phone in hand. He had plenty of time to call Keira before his uncle rang up from the airport. The scorching day had fallen to the cool of evening as he left the dorm and picked a likely sidewalk to stroll down, around the side of the building away from the parking garage. A few late fireflies lingered through the tree trunks as he passed the edge of the quad and hit Keira's speed dial.

/_Hi, it's Keira! Sorry I missed your call. I'm probably under a car right now, but if you leave your name and number—_/

Jak smiled and shook his head, flipping his phone closed. It figured. She was the only girl he knew who could fiddle around in a sweltering garage until all hours, then dress up pretty the next morning and drag him out for a day on the town. There was an elongated beep. "Hey Keira, it's only me. I was just calling to say hi and make sure you're not missing me too much already, since you're such a wimpy little girly-girl and all. Oh, and I wanted to check on Croc. Make sure your dad remembers to feed him when you leave, okay? Uncle won't be back for at least two weeks and I really don't want to find out that my dog is dead when I come home for Thanksgiving. Anyway, call me back if you get this before midnight. Love you. Bye."

The lamp posts were winking on by the time he came within sight of the dorm again. He was cutting around the rear of the building with the intention of going up the back stairs when something caught his attention. Jak stopped, perking his ears. A rattling sound was coming from an alcove in the back wall, where a large dumpster stood. He wandered closer curiously. Squirrel, raccoon, or stray cat? None of the above, as it turned out. In a small wire birdcage, something squeaked and rocked its long, furry body against the bars.

"Whoa…" Jak knelt beside the cage, meeting the glittering eyes of the creature inside. The ferret, a brown and cream sable, opened its mouth to squeak up at him as it pushed at the bars futilely with its paws. "What are you doing out here, little guy?"

These kinds of pets were expensive. Who would leave one out with the trash, in a cage barely big enough for it to turn around in? Unless the owner was a new student who had run up against the "no pets allowed" rule that came uniform in the campus' dorms. Jak snorted, frowning deeply. Anyone who would abandon something defenseless like that needed to be the one in the trash.

Resolutely the green-blonde hoisted the cage. If he went in the back doors and borrowed a towel from the weight room downstairs, there was a very good chance he could cover the cage and smuggle it up to their room without anyone but Daxter being the wiser. Surely the redhead wouldn't squeal over something so trivial, at least until an animal rescue of some sort could be found to take the ferret of Jak's hands.

"Just keep quiet in there, little guy. I got your back."

Jak had never been very good at following rules. And with a first day like the one he'd just had, he was willing to risk it. College life was off to an exciting start.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.

**oooooooooo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. Except for Killer the ferret. He was mine, then I gave him to Jak.

**-/-/-/-/-**

There were definite perks to being in college, Daxter reflected.

First and foremost, there were gorgeous babes everywhere his head turned. The food was amazing, now that his financial aid had come through and he could actually afford to eat it. And compared to just a few short months ago, his freedom and free time had seemed to increase exponentially. If the first week of class had been any indication, the work load that semester wouldn't be too difficult—and when he returned to his small corner of the collegiate universe after class there was no one but him to tell him what to do. Quite suddenly life had become pretty decent.

Of course, there were also some aspects of college life that were quite the opposite of perks.

"Sheesh, what's a guy gotta do around here ta get a little AC goin' on?" Daxter whined. He slouched at his desk, a random notebook in hand to fan himself as he griped. Unfortunately, it was doing nothing but circulating the hot air in the room. The window was wide open to let in the cool night air outside—except that the air without was just as bad as the air within. "Does one of us hafta develop asthma or killer mutant allergies before we get a little heat relief around here?"

Jak chuckled from his spot on the rug. "Pretty much." He was playing with the ferret again, running his hand under the edge of the rug and encouraging the critter to chase it. "I asked Torn about it. He said that if everyone in the building ran an air conditioner at the same time the flux of electricity would blow out the power grid. So, yeah. Only if you've got breathing problems and need filtered air."

"Jak, quick. I demand that you become allergic to that weasel immediately."

His roommate snorted good-naturedly. "Yeah, sure. And when they ask what I'm suddenly allergic to, I'll tell them an imaginary ferret moved in."

Fanning himself idly, Daxter watched as the ferret bounced by with its back in a hump, chattering at the top of its lungs. "Yer really gonna keep that thing, aren't ya?"

"Well… yeah." Jak had the decency to look sheepish. "I mean, I was going to find a shelter or something to take him, really. But look at him! Isn't he great?" He grabbed the undulating tube of fur as it streaked past and held it up for Dax to see. "He's friendly, playful, and he loves attention."

"He better stay out'a my bed or I'll launch his ass down the stairs like a furry slinky."

"That was one time. Just once. He went through all that trouble to climb your desk and get up on the top bunk so he could say good morning to you."

"He can go say good morning to our charmin' RA next time. Get carted out faster than the trash after dinner."

Jak smiled indulgently, petting the ferret as it hung contentedly in his grip. "You'd miss Killer if they took him away."

Dax huffed. "Not as much as I miss cool air."

The green-blonde looked up from the floor, a ferret paw in each of his hands as it playfully nipped at his knuckles. The breeze from a small fan on his desk swirled his hair, brushing against his bare shoulders. "If you're so hot just take your shirt off, Dax. I'm not that warm."

Daxter started abruptly, dropping the notebook flat on his own desk with a loud _fwap_. Uh, how about not. "Actually, y'know what? I guess I'm really not that hot after all."

"You sure? You look miserable." Jak gave the ferret a flick to the behind as it grabbed a corner of the rug in its teeth and pulled. "Why don't you go take a cool shower or something?"

Aaaand that was an even worse idea. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and crammed the notebook back onto the shelves over his desk. "Yeah, I'll get one later."

"You like to shower really late, don't you?" Jak asked casually.

Daxter swallowed, trying his best to play it cool. "How ya figure?"

"Well, it's almost midnight and you're still putting it off. Can't get much later or you'll be showering really early. Plus we've been living together for two weeks now and I've never seen you go, but the towels keep disappearing and reappearing in the laundry basket."

"Crazy thing about sharin' a set of towels, huh?" Daxter chuckled weakly, ears trying to flag. Of course he had to be shacked up with the only intelligent football player on campus—he'd have called such a thing an oxymoron before meeting Jak. "I just… I, uh, really like bein' the only one in the showers so I don't hafta fight anybody fer the radio. Last thing I wanna be forced ta listen to while I rinse an' repeat is some crappy political talk show, y'know?"

Jak nodded amiably. "Yeah. I never thought about a radio in the bathroom before, but I kind of like it. Makes me not feel stupid when I sing in the shower." He reached out and caught the ferret in one big hand. "Alright, you. Back in your cage before you overheat. Jak's gotta get to bed."

Daxter let out a quiet sigh of relief as the topic of showers was dropped. He watched his roommate crawl across the floor to the large cage taking up most of the space below their window, a three-level concoction of wire and ferret paraphernalia that had cost Jak more than Daxter would usually be able to spend in a month. Of course, that meant that said ferret was now much harder to hide, so the cage had to be covered with a spare sheet and passed off as a storage bin whenever a third party came into the room. Torn would have their heads on a platter and Killer back in the dumpster if anyone squealed.

"Wanna say goodnight?" Jak asked, holding the ferret up once more.

Dax smirked. "Goodnight, weasel-face."

"Close enough." Jak tucked his little buddy in and locked the cage. Less one uninvited ferret in someone's bunk the next morning. Then he stretched hard, arms over his head, and yawned. Prominent muscles flexed and rippled in a way still made the redhead a bit nervous. "Yeah, I am definitely ready for bed."

"So soon? On a Friday night? What kind'a football star are ya?"

"One who's very tired." Jak was grinning as he crawled into his bunk. "Goodnight, Dax. Don't stay up too late."

"Yeah, yeah. Night." A flash of consideration prompted Daxter to turn down the setting on his table lamp, leaving the room in a dim, hot twilight. He reached into a cubby hole at the back of his desk and fished out a shiny new music player, one of the few little treats he had splurged on after buying the bare necessities of books and supplies with the financial aid money. Head bobbing and bare foot tapping lightly under the desk, he flipped open a notebook and began to doodle mutant ferrets while he waited for the perfect time to make a move.

** o**

An hour later, Jak was unquestionably down for the count. Daxter peered into the shadowy cave under the top bunk, making sure for the third time that his roommate was out. The green-blonde was sprawled face down on his pillow, ears and arms lax. The comforter had been kicked to the end of the bunk to ward off the ungodly heat, while the sheet tangled around his waist. His breathing was deep and even.

Assured that all was quiet, Daxter pulled off his headphones and crept away from the desk. Like a shadow he opened the door of his wardrobe and pulled down a bath robe. Another peek at Jak. No movement. In quick succession the redhead's worn t-shirt hit the floor, followed by shorts and boxers. Before the latter had even settled on the rug Dax was pulling the comfort of the fluffy blue robe around himself, satisfied with the completion of his stealth mission. It was nervy changing in the same space as his roommate, but better strip in front of a sleeping Jak than chance someone else being in the showers if he tried to disrobe there.

It was a short trip down the hall to the bathrooms that all the residents of 3-West shared. The way lay empty and silent, as Daxter had hoped. Two weeks in the dorm and he had managed to avoid getting in or out of the shower in front of anyone, a trend that he hoped to continue. It was bad enough being seen in all his pale, skinny lack of glory, certain imperfections on display for the world to see… but even that couldn't compare to the disgusting vulnerability of being clothes-less in front of others. Ears laid back sourly, the redhead tightened his hand on the handle of the plastic basket that held his soap and shampoo. At least he didn't have class exceptionally early, so the sleep-or-shower quandary didn't have to come into play yet.

Pushing open the bathroom door, Daxter peeked in. No one was standing at the sinks, and the radio that sat on the countertop was quiet. So far, so good. A few steps into the tiled room and he began to relax. Home free, as usual. But then, as he passed by the stalls and urinals into the secondary room where the rows of showers began, the sound of rushing water met his ears. He rounded the corner and stopped short, immediately aware of the muggy steam filling the room. One shower was running, curtain pulled over the occupant, and another figure seemed to have just finished, stepping into a pair of shorts with a towel across their shoulders.

"Shit!" The hissed curse was out before he could contain it, and Daxter started to backpedal. Too late.

The figure, topped with a shock of dark orange hair, turned around. "Well, well. I believe I know you, now, don't I?"

Daxter froze, willing his ears not to give away his sudden panic. Of all the guys he could have stumbled in on, it was Erol. He didn't even live on that floor! What was he doing in their hall's showers at one in the morning? He swallowed, held onto his basket handle tighter, and forced his voice not to betray his nervousness. "Uh, hey there. Long time no see, pal."

"Indeed." With a snort of amusement that still managed to sound unfriendly, the taller redhead turned back to the bench stacked with his clothing and shower items.

Daxter blinked. That was it? Maybe Erol had gotten over their incident on the patio, angry as he had seemed at the time. Hesitantly Daxter walked over to the bench opposite Erol's and put down his basket and towel. It was already late enough. He needed to wash. If the bigger guy wasn't going to be antagonistic that night, maybe it would be alright to stay. It would be uncomfortable, but he could always get behind the curtain before shucking his robe.

"So, uh, what brings ya ta our floor?"

"The showers have been shut off upstairs. Massive plumbing crisis. It's almost enough to shoot someone in the face over."

"Wow. Eh-heh, yeah, I guess that would be annoying." Daxter gulped surreptitiously and pulled out his shampoo and conditioner. So small talk was out.

He would just hurry, get this over with as fast as possible. He quickly chose the shower stall at the end of the row and stuck the bottles in the rack under the showerhead. There was a hook on the wall just outside the curtain. He could keep covered the whole time if he just got behind the curtain before he uncovered and reached out to hang the robe up from there. Erol would likely be long gone by the time he finished and needed to retrieve it, anyway. Simple.

Only, of course it couldn't be. Daxter refolded his towel, laid it back on the bench. Picked up his soap and washcloth. Started for the shower. A deep chuckle stopped him in his tracks, and he looked over his shoulder at Erol nervously. "Huh?"

"Don't tell me. You're really going to get undressed in there. Let me guess—shy? How adorable."

At the condescending croon, the smaller redhead's hand flew up to grip the collar of his robe without thinking. His ears went back and down, and he skittered away from Erol warily. It was the wrong way to skitter, though; the bigger guy now stood between Daxter and the door.

"You know," Erol all but purred, "I had decided that it was simply too much trouble to hassle you tonight. But you're just so cute, I don't think I can resist."

Daxter's heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened in sheer panic. He pressed himself to the wall, staring up helplessly as the other stalked slowly, smugly forward.

** o**

Jak let out a muffled groan of agony into his pillow as he crawled, most unwillingly, back to consciousness. "Why… the hell… is it so _hot_?"

He struggled upright, held back by the sheet tangled around his hips and thighs. Even the light fabric felt unbearably hot and itchy. He kicked it off angrily and sat up, blinking at the empty room. God, he felt disgusting. Sweaty and sticky and annoyed. The digital clock on his desk announced that it was a quarter past one. Jak swung his legs out of the bunk and stood up. Daxter's lamp was still on.

"Hey, Dax? You awake?" he asked softly, chancing a peek up onto the top bunk. Empty. "Guess so…" He was blearily musing on where his roommate could have gone at this time of night when the answer hit him like a moth in a bug zapper.

The showers. Of course. Daxter said he liked to shower late, that he planned to go sometime that night. Where else would he be? And now that Jak thought about it, a cool shower sounded like heaven. He was already awake and less than likely to be able to get back to sleep with the room temperature hovering at tropic rainforest levels. He might as well go wash the sweat off. Mind made up, Jak lost no time in kicking his boxers to the curb. Towel tied securely around his waist, he grabbed a washcloth, a bottle of body wash, and his keys. He just hoped Daxter had tuned the bathroom radio to something decent.

The door hadn't had the time to swing shut behind the green-blonde when his brightening mood went abruptly south. Instead of the radio broadcasting a local station's late night classic rock block, the first sound to meet his ears over the hum of falling water was a squeal of distress.

"_Get the hell off'a me!"_

Two weeks of hearing that voice day in and day out left no doubt in Jak's mind. He skidded around the corner into the showers and stopped dead. Daxter was pinned to the wall by an elbow against his chest and a fist in his hair, struggling like a dog about to be drowned as Erol tried to pull his robe off him. The much bigger redhead was laughing.

"Hey!" Jak barked. "Let go of him!" He could see Daxter staring at him mutely around the pinning arm, ears back and eyes huge as he continued to struggle. The robe had been pulled from one thin shoulder. The terrified look on his friend's face was more than enough to send Jak from zero to pissed instantly.

Erol's head snapped around to identify who had happened upon them, but he relaxed almost immediately. "Tch. You again? Is this coincidence, or do the two of you just follow one another everywhere?"

"I said _let go of him_." Jak's voice and eyes were steely. Fights were nothing new to the football player and, though he avoided them when he could, a massive line had been crossed the moment this asshole had touched his roommate.

The tattooed man seemed less than impressed. "Your little friend and I are a bit busy at the moment. Don't worry, you can have him when I'm done."

Jak's keys clashed loudly on the tile when he dropped them. The bottle of body wash bounced and clattered away as he stalked forward, ears back to their extreme. So talking wasn't going to back this guy off this time. Fine with Jak. Coming up right behind the two he grabbed a fistful of the larger redhead's damp t-shirt and yanked.

Erol turned with an aggravated hiss. "Who do you think yo—"

The instant he spun, Jak slugged. His fist hit the side of a hard, square jaw with a satisfying thud, cracking the man's head firmly to the side. "When I tell you to get your hands off my roommate, I mean it!"

Erol came up with a snarl and a fist of his own, but Jak was more than ready. He blocked the blow easily, twisting his opponent's arm as he did so. His focus was tunneling, locking on like it did on the gridiron when someone had his ball and he determined to separate them from it. Erol turned a stumble into a lunge, pushing Jak backward, and the two staggered to the middle of the ring of benches and showers. It had every likelihood of turning into a knock-down-drag-out right there in the bathroom floor, right up until the point the lone occupied shower abruptly cut off and the curtain was ripped back.

"Will you morons kindly shut the hell up?"

Both combatants froze as they suddenly recalled, apparently at the same time, that the world was bigger than the two of them causing each other as much pain and inconvenience as possible. Jak let his eyes slide off the red, tattooed face before him to dart at the new voice.

"Is it really so much to ask to get a bit of peace and quiet around here? Honestly!" The man grabbed a towel down off the curtain rod and began to dry himself, cursing under his breath in a language Jak couldn't make out. "All I ask is a relaxing shower before I sleep, and fight club decides to meet in my showers. Beautiful."

"Mind your own business," Erol growled. He was glowering at Jak, obviously more than willing to continue despite an audience. A rather poor judgment call, Jak thought; he was a stranger picking a fight on someone else's floor at a time of night when all visitors were required to be chaperoned.

"Fuck off, you inconsiderate prick! This has been an absolutely disgusting night!" the jet-haired man ranted, flinging down his wet towel on the bench and grabbing for his shorts. "As if it was not enough that I spend three hours lying in a puddle of oil under my car in the damned parking garage, only to discover that I need a replacement part that I do not have—oh, no. Then I have to walk back here in the dark with oil in my hair, and am forced to shower in the damned middle of the damned night when it _should_ be most peaceful, and you clowns can't be quiet enough for me to hear my own thoughts!"

"Sorry, Razer," Jak gritted. "Not my idea, but sometimes you just need to smack a bitch, you know?"

Erol's teeth bared as he stared Jak down. There was barely space between them for the redhead to jab a threatening finger at Jak's chest. "I'm not sure quite where you get your attitude, boy, but it's going to get you in a lot of trouble someday."

Though the other was easily several inches taller than him, Jak didn't flinch or move so much as a centimeter. "I could most definitely say the same about you. I don't know what you've got against Daxter, but I'll be more than happy to jack you up if you come near him again."

For just a moment, it looked like Erol was going to take another swing. He restrained himself. With a deep breath and an obvious smoothing of ragged nerves, he stepped back. The look of condescending calm once more slid into place on his face. The sudden change was almost eerie. "Duly noted. Jak." He spit the name like poison. With one last glare at the green-blonde he turned away. A similar glare landed on Daxter, who hadn't twitched from his spot against the wall, as Erol grabbed his towel and duffel bag from the bench and stalked out.

Only when the door swung closed behind him did Jak relax the rigid posture of his back and shoulders. "God damn. What is that guy's _problem?_"

"Whatever it is, I bet it's hard to pronounce," Razer deadpanned, running a comb through his damp hair. It shone like spilled ink under the fluorescents. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my so-called bed awaits."

Jak nodded. "Right. Sorry again about all that."

"I was here for the whole episode, you know. I know very well who started shenanigans. If by chance Torn happens to inquire in the morning, I suppose I would be willing to lend an unbiased account." Throwing his towel over his shoulder, Razer turned to the door. "Any messages for Phoenix if the boy isn't face down in his own drool when I return?"

"Tell him I'll see him at practice tomorrow, if you want. Thanks, Razer." Jak watched him go for a long moment, and then turned to the small redheaded flower on the back wall. "Well, damn. I'm glad that's over."

Daxter didn't move or speak. He simply stood and stared, robe loose and open around his chest and shoulders, looking as though it was on an imminent date with falling off. His chest was heaving.

Jak frowned and stepped forward. "Dax? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm totally fine." Daxter's voice was high and thin, a shade away from truly panicked. He pressed flat to the tiled wall as Jak stepped cautiously closer, ears flat to the sides and eyes riveted on the green-blonde.

Jak eased nearer, concern building as his friend made no move to move. When he came within reach he very gingerly stretched out a hand and pulled the fall of fabric back onto a shaking shoulder. "Are you sure? You don't look so hot…"

"Of course I'm fine!" The redhead suddenly began to giggle, a slightly manic sound that startled Jak even as it morphed into a full-on laugh. "Why wouldn't I be fine? Might as well be yer bitch instead'a his! Hell, we live in the same room. Makes it a lot more convenient, right? Easier access!" He was laughing hysterically, slumping against the wall.

Jak's mouth fell open in utter shock. What in the hell was he talking about? "Daxter? Hey! Come on, you're freaking me out, here. Chill out and sit down. Breathe." Though the great majority of his brain was telling him it was a bad idea, he couldn't help but gently grasp the trembling redhead's upper arms and pull him away from the wall.

Daxter let out a whine when Jak touched him and stumbled a bit as he was directed back to the bench where his towel still lay, but ultimately allowed himself to be seated upon it. He put his face in his hands and did as instructed, breathing deeply.

Jak stood as close as he dared, one hand awkwardly resting on his roommate's shoulder in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "Just calm down. Don't worry. If he's not a complete idiot, Erol won't mess with you again." He tried hard to keep his voice neutral and reasoning, though the redhead's words a minute before had been like a glass of cold water to the face.

They stayed that way for long minutes as Daxter pulled himself back together. Jak stood at his side, hand still resting on that shoulder as the shaking finally began to subside. Idly his thumb began to trace back and forth over a patch of bare skin, a repetitive, calming motion. It was completely unconscious until the pad of his thumb brushed a raised line, and Jak glanced down curiously. The entirety of the back side of Daxter's shoulder, as well as the back of his neck, was covered in small scars. Jak's eyes widened silently as his thumb froze.

Daxter hadn't seemed to notice the small touch until it ceased. He glanced up sharply, leaving the two staring one another in the face. Abruptly he surged to his feet, hands jerking up to pull the collar of the robe tight around his neck. "Sorry, Jak. Sorry. Thanks fer the help."

"Are you okay now?" Jak asked slowly as some distance was put between them. "I mean… for real okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm better. I'm real sorry. I didn't… I totally shouldn't have said that, Jak." The redhead took a final deep breath and looked back over his shoulder. "I mean, yeah, I was freaked out pretty bad, but he was the one pickin' at me, not you. You totally saved my ass. Sorry."

Jak hesitated a moment, but finally spoke. "How could you even think something like that, Dax? We're friends. I wouldn't hurt you. Ever."

"I know. I know." Daxter's hands were locked around his upper arms. His ears broadcasted the slant of the utterly miserable. "It's just… shit. I got jumped in the locker room in high school, okay? Five guys. They… all of 'em were on the football team."

There was really nothing Jak could say to that. It sure made the way his roommate acted around him sometimes make a little more sense. He swallowed tightly. "Is that where, uh. All those scars?"

"Huh? Oh, nah. For once they didn't wanna beat me up." Daxter laughed humorlessly. "Just when ya think gettin' used as a crucial component in locker pinball sucks, they get new ideas on what you'd be good for. If the coach hadn't walked in when he did I would'a been coughin' up jizz fer a week."

"Fuck," Jak breathed, dragging a hand down his face in disbelief. It just got better and better. "Were they expelled, at least?"

"Ha. You kiddin'? That's a quarter of the football team. Coach passed it off as indecent exposure an' let 'em go with a week of detention. Me, too. Like I was in on it or somethin'. Guess it shouldn't have been a big surprise, though. I couldn't do much right in that place."

Now Jak was the one taking deep, calming breaths. He didn't know whether throwing up or punching a hole in a wall would make him feel best. All he knew was a sudden fierce desire to hug Daxter tight—and that was a really bad idea. Instead he forced himself to walk across the room and gather up everything he had dropped when he came in. His keys jangled as he wound the lanyard around his wrist. The lid of his body wash bottle was cracked. The green-blonde sighed. "I am getting in the shower now, before anything else decides to happen. Yell if you need anything, alright?"

Daxter gave a slight nod, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jak hung keys and towel over the curtain rod of the shower he had chosen. Jak stepped into it and pulled the curtain to, hissing a second later as the water momentarily ran cold. When it had adjusted to his liking he stuck his face under the spray. Too bad it wasn't possible to will everything that had happened in the past twenty minutes to wash off like the sweat still clinging to his skin.

To his surprise, the sound of a second shower running soon cut through Jak's thoughts. He had thought for sure Dax would beat a retreat back to their room. Still, this was the much better alternative. He didn't want the redhead to be terrified of ever going to the showers again. Though, it wouldn't be too difficult to stage things so that he and Daxter showered at the same time, just in case anything more were to threaten Dax—if the redhead even wanted him there at all, protection or no. Jak heaved another deep sigh as the broken cap snapped clean off and circled the drain. Just when he had thought things were going to go well between them…

There was silence for a long while. Jak finished his wash-down, stood a minute in the cool water, and shut off the tap. Keys down. Keys around his wrist. Towel down. Towel around his waist. He stepped out from behind the curtain almost the same instant that Daxter's head hove into view from behind the curtain next to him.

The redhead blinked owlishly from under a mat of dripping hair, one hand coming up to swipe the water from his eyes. He stretched out an arm to grasp at the robe hanging from a hook on the wall, but seemed supremely unwilling to bare any more of himself than the arm and part of one pale shoulder. His fingertips brushed the fabric once, twice, futilely. Jak had to smile. He stepped over and lifted the robe down, bringing it within Daxter's reach.

"Uh, thanks." Daxter accepted it rather sheepishly. A blush dusted his wet cheeks as he ducked back behind the safety of the curtain.

Jak chuckled quietly. He sat on the bench beside Daxter's towel and toiletry basket, already feeling the nagging tingle of being uncomfortably warm returning. A moment later Daxter stepped out to join him. He was covered from neck to past the knee in overlarge robe, looking smaller than ever. Jak kept his eyes elsewhere, staring at the patterns in the tile as Dax collected his towel and began to fluff his hair drier.

"Hey, Dax."

The redhead jumped slightly and looked up from his towel, hair poofing every which way. "Huh?"

"Listen. If you want to, you can…" His ears drifted lower. Damn it. This shouldn't be so hard. They had only known each other for two weeks. It was just a simple thing. Jak tried again. "You can ask Torn if they'll switch your room assignment out, if you want."

Daxter stared.

"I mean, we're a couple weeks into the semester now. I'm sure somebody on our floor has figured out that they can't stand their roommate. If you ask, I bet they'd let you trade with someone else. If it's been upsetting you so much to room with me, then—"

"Are you stupid or somethin'?"

Jak blinked. Uh, okay. Hadn't been expecting that response to his suggestion.

"No, I don't wanna move out!" Against all odds, Daxter looked truly upset. His hands clenched to fists, balling up the towel he still held. "Damn it, ya big lug—just 'cause I got upset _one_ time an' freaked out a little doesn't mean I don't wanna be around ya! Jeez, yer the only guy I know who's been able ta put up with my smart mouth fer as long as ya have, an' not even act like I'm annoying. You've backed me more in two weeks than anybody else has my whole life!" He paused for air, and a distinct quiver graced his lower lip. "So, no ta yer dumb idea, thanks all the same."

Slowly, the green-blonde smiled. "Okay. That's fine."

"Humph. Better be fine." With a mutinous pout, Daxter went back to his hair.

"Second question, then. Do you want to report Erol for that stunt he pulled?"

A squeamish look crossed the redhead's face. He shook his head negatively. "Uh, I don't think we gotta do that."

"Are you sure? Because you're completely justified in turning his ass in for what he did to you. I don't care if he was just going to steal your clothes and strand you in here naked, or—uh, you know, whatever—but assault is assault. Razer even said he'd back us."

"Don't worry about it, Jak. You said yerself he'd be dumb if he tried anything else. I'll just blaze a trail the other way if I run into the guy again, I guess."

"You'll come running to me, is what you'll do," Jak growled. "I'd personally like to finish the ass-kicking I started. He's got it coming. Now that I think about it, if _anybody_ gives you trouble you don't deserve, you just let me know."

Daxter glanced at him in surprise, but let it go. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Whatever ya say." He fiddled with his hair for a moment more, dropping the towel and digging a comb from his basket. It was pulled through damp red strands, made darker by lingering water. "Uh, hey. Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"A few minutes ago you asked about, um. 'Bout my shoulders n' stuff."

"Yeah." He had been determined not to ask about the scars. Prying was a bad, bad thing, especially after what Dax had just gone through.

"I wasn't gonna tell ya about it. Didn't want ya ta find out about any of this crap, but… I guess I prob'ly should, since we're permanent roommates now an' all. You would'a figured it out sooner or later anyway." He spun the comb around his fingers, a nervous worry toy, before finally speaking. "Happened when I was pretty little. Don't wanna talk about the details. Let's just say I don't like belts too much no more."

The urge to punch walls roared back out of nowhere, but Jak stayed still and quiet. Just listening.

"Yeah. So, I got taken away an' stuck in a group home. Been a foster kid ever since. Well… _was_ a foster kid, I guess. Now that I'm eighteen an' out'a high school I'm pretty much on my own. I got offered a free shot at college out'a pity an' took it 'cause I didn't know what else ta do. Now here I am. The end. Fantabulous story, right?"

That explained so much. Why Dax had been alone from the moment Jak first laid eyes on him, stepping into dorm life with barely more than the clothes on his back. Why he never spoke about parents or guardians. Why he couldn't even afford to eat until state supported tuition had kicked in financial aid.

"But, hey, don't you go feelin' sorry fer me!" the redhead demanded, aiming a pointer finger between Jak's eyes. It was like Jak didn't even have to voice his thoughts for Daxter to know them. "I'm tough, ya dig? I been lookin' out fer myself fer years an' I've done a pretty good job, if I do say so. I can take it."

"Of course you can." Jak had to smile at the display. In spite of everything he had apparently been through, his roommate was just… cute. Funny. Clever. And damned cute. "But everybody needs a friend once in a while."

"Huh. Yeah, maybe. I guess." Making a great show of being unconcerned, Daxter dropped his comb back in the basket and folded his wet towel. "Well, fun as this night has been, I gotta say I wouldn't repeat it, Jakkie-boy. Crap has a way of comin' down in a landslide just when ya think yer in the clear."

"Tell me about it." Jak agreed with one thing: it had been one crazy night. One he was ready to put behind him. "… hey, Dax? You want to go get some tacos?"

The redhead glanced up, one copper-colored brow precariously close to being lost in his hairline. "Yer kiddin' me, right?"

"I'm dead serious. It's too hot to sleep, I'm hungry, and the Taco Shack is open all night. Come on, let's go. It's not a long walk." Jak bounced up off the bench, given energy by his own plan.

"Yer nuts. It's almost two in the morning!"

"They have air conditioning," Jak wheedled. "It'll be my treat."

That seemed to change Daxter's tune. "Well, then, I guess a little snack never hurt anybody. Oooh, hey, you think that that one cashier would be workin' there this late? Y'know, the cute geology major with the braids?"

Either Daxter had short term memory loss, or he was a fantastic actor. Jak watched him thoughtfully as they left the bathroom to change for their late night adventure, consciously noticing the redhead's mask of snarky humor for the first time. "She could be. Never know until we check."

"Sweet. I personally think she's a little bit crazy. I mean, come on, a thesis on moles? But she's easy on the eyes!"

Jak chuckled. "Gotta agree with that."

And just like that, things were tentatively cool once more. Jak had a lot to mull during their walk and long after, but it was more information about his new friend that he'd gotten in the entire two weeks preceding. He was satisfied. And he would, he vowed, continue to prove himself worthy of Daxter's trust.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

** - / - / - / - / -  
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_ "Daxter? Are you okay?"_

_ Daxter stood very still as Jak approached, worry plain in his blue eyes. The taller boy moved closer and closer through the muggy, steam-filled air of the showers, until they were so close their bare chests nearly brushed. The redhead stared steadily up at the other's face, his back against the solid support of the tiled wall. He felt strangely calm inside, even as Jak slowly lifted a hand and placed it gently on one freckled shoulder._

_ An easy warmth spread through him, and Daxter shivered slightly. He lifted his own hand to touch Jak in return, raised his eyes once more to reassure. He was alright. This was fine._

_ Jak smiled down at him, those deep blue eyes now lazy and radiating the same inviting warmth. With a smile of his own the redhead stepped forward—_

Daxter opened his eyes with a sharp gasp. For a moment he lay frozen, desperately seeking his bearings, until reality caught up with him. He was in bed. In his own bed in his own room. Alone and unbothered.

"Ah, hell…" The redhead shakily released the breath he had been holding, slowly relaxing as his heart rate returned to normal.

It was the third time. The third damn time he'd had the same damn dream, and he was still at a loss as to why he wasn't waking up from it screaming. By all rights it should scare the hell out of him; the perfect formula for nightmares. Back to the wall. A solid mass of muscle mere inches away. No way out if the other decided to pin him there. He could be thrown against that wall, pushed down, mouth pried open or worse, and he would be helpless. And yet… all he felt now, as he had felt on the previous two occasions, was that lingering, almost relaxed warmth in his chest and limbs. Not to mention his lower belly.

Dax sighed as he lifted the blanket and glanced down. "And a case of morning wood on top of it. Great." From below came a string of ferret-chatter, no doubt in response to his voice. The water bottle hanging from the wire cage rattled briskly with the lapping of an enthusiastic tongue. "Quiet, smart ass. I never asked you." He had somehow developed a habit of talking to Killer when Jak wasn't around to be graced with his witty banter.

Daxter stretched lazily and flopped over onto his stomach, rolling his hips languidly into the mattress. Mmm. That was nice. He snuggled his pillow absently, relishing the luxurious freedom of staying in bed. It was mid-morning. He was warm and comfortable. And Jak would be at practice. If he so chose he was perfectly entitled to stay right where he was and feel himself up for an hour.

Slow, unhurried masturbation without threat of discovery and punishment was a foreign concept that Daxter was just beginning to grasp, with a roommate who was largely absent during the day and a lock on the door that only he and said roommate had keys to. A foreign and very appealing concept. But now, even with the assurance of more privacy than he had ever had before in his life, he was _just_ uneasy enough to keep his hands off himself. Memory of the dream still lingered, confusing and somehow embarrassing.

"Damn it. Guess I'm gettin' up after all. Waste of a good boner… thanks a lot, weird-ass dream." Daxter pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the mattress, legs dangling as he looked out absently over their room. Still. It was so odd. It had been almost a month since that fateful night in the showers. At the very least he should be having nightmares about Erol, not dreams about his roommate that gave him the warm and fuzzies.

With a sigh, the redhead slithered down from the top bunk. He stretched mightily. It was time for breakfast, and he had a class in an hour and a half. As he was moving to collect fresh clothes, though, Daxter caught sight of something stuck to the door of his wardrobe. Cocking his head curiously, he pulled off the sticky note.

"Hey Dax—pizza after practice? Got coupons for the good place. Meet me at the stadium at noon. Jak." Daxter stared at the note for a long moment before snorting. "He signed his name. What, did he think I'd think the weasel wrote it?"

Still. He couldn't help the grin slowly forcing its way onto his face. On the Monday of Homecoming Week, the busiest week of the entire season thus far for the football team, Jak wanted to set time aside for them to hang out. He was such a dork. Daxter crumpled the note, tossed it at the trashcan, and mentally did the same to any plans he might have been formulating for after class. Apparently, he was going out for pizza.

** o**

The September sun reflected hot on the stadium's metal bleachers by the time Daxter crept into them a few hours later. He perched cautiously in the first row of seating, looking out over the mostly empty field, backpack a comforting weight on his back. Practice had ended ten minutes ago. If he, such a conspicuously non-jock redhead, sat out in such an obvious spot, Jak would be sure to find him.

He still felt massively awkward to be encroaching on what would have hitherto been considered enemy territory. Now that he was hanging around Jak, though, it seemed like he might have some slight right to be there. And apparently he wasn't the only one using their connections to a member of the football team to loiter around the field. Down on the fringes of the green turf, Razer stood out like a beacon in a bright blue and red jogging outfit as he chatted with one of the biggest men Daxter had seen yet on campus. It had to be Coach Sig, the redhead decided. The guy was so big he made Razer look petite. Daxter debated for a moment before slowly making his way toward them. He was here; he may as well make an attempt to be sociable while he waited for Jak.

"Phoenix tells me you work him quite _hard_," Razer purred just as Dax came within earshot. "I heartily approve. He certainly needs to be put through his paces. It would be such a shame if he became lazy and let his position on the team go to his dear little head, yes?" He was pulling what had already become a trademarked move of space invasion and eyeing the bigger man like a rack of lamb.

Daxter snorted. "Is it possible fer you ta make conversation with _anybody_ without turnin' it into a pickup session?"

Razer glanced over his shoulder in surprise and immediately scowled. "Well, I don't recall having tried to pick _you_ up yet, noisy little thing that you are." Obviously irritated, he pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket as he scanned the field.

Surprisingly, Sig seemed largely oblivious to being hit on like a metaphorical punching bag by the charming exchange student. He looked down at Daxter with good-natured curiosity, clipboard tucked under one massively muscled arm. "And who's this, now?"

"I'm Daxter." The redhead gulped and did his best not to gawk at the coach's huge build and height, fighting down a nervous crack about the weather up there. "I'm just, uh, waitin' fer Jak."

"Is that so? How 'bout that. Jak never told me he had a little brother!" A hand the size of catcher's mitt descended without warning and ruffled red-gold hair into wild disarray.

Daxter's mouth dropped open in shock and righteous indignation as Razer laughed loudly. "I'm his _roommate!_" he shrieked, pushing the insolent hand away. "Damn it, why does everybody I meet think I'm a kid?"

Sig reared back in surprise at the outburst. "Whoa, okay! Calm down, there, cherry. I didn't mean to offend you."

The big hand came back, patting his head this time in a way suspiciously reminiscent of the way one patted a dog or a child throwing a tantrum, and Daxter would have stalked out of the stadium in high annoyance had Jak and Phoenix not chosen that moment to come strolling up. He huffed in aggravation, ears angling back. "Well, look who decided ta show. It's about time."

"Hey Dax," Jak said cheerfully. "Sorry about the wait. Phoenix and I had to lock up the locker room. What's up?"

Sig grinned and slapped Daxter's back hard enough to send the redhead staggering. "I was just telling the roommates of my star players how great it is to see them out here showing their support. And it not even a game day, too. That's the kind of spirit we need around here!"

"Yeah, spirit," Daxter wheezed, swaying under the force of the coach's enthusiasm. Damn! If the guy was this dangerous when he was happy about something, Daxter wouldn't want to see him when he was mad.

Phoenix chuckled as he tugged the band out of his long black hair and redid the ponytail. "What are you doing here, Razer? You're usually out jogging this time of day."

"Yes, and so I was." Razer flicked away the cigarette completely at odds with his chosen cardio workout. "Killing two birds with one stone, you might say. However, since my first motive seems to have fallen flat, I simply say that I am here to reunite you with the History notes you left in our room this morning." He gestured casually behind him, to where a thick notebook lay on the bottommost bleacher. "The ones for the class you will be going to shortly…?"

"Oh? Oh, damn!" The look on Phoenix's face quickly morphed from surprised to sheepish. "Thanks a lot, I had no idea I'd forgotten it. I owe you one."

Razer smirked. "I'll add it to your tab. Fun as it has been, I will bid you all adieu. I am falling behind on my exercise schedule."

"Alright. See you after class, then!" Phoenix waved as his roommate jogged away with a flippant gesture over his shoulder. "I guess I better get going myself. Hey, Jak, interested in meeting us for burgers when I get out of class?"

The green-blonde smiled but shook his head. "No thanks. Dax and I are going for pizza. Right, Dax?"

For a second all Daxter could do was blink and stare. Jak had just gotten an invite from his super-cool football player friend. He had just passed up said invite from said super-cool football player friend because he already had plans with his shrimpy, uncool roommate? Yet another curve ball Jak was getting good at rocketing through his concept of reality. "Uh, yeah. Pizza. Pizza is good."

If Phoenix was upset or jealous at being ditched, he didn't show it. "Okay, that's cool. Catch you two later, then."

"Study hard, kid," Sig grinned. "I don't care how far overseas the recruiters had to go to find you, drop those grades and I'll kick your ass off the team so fast you won't know what hit you. Have fun! See you next practice."

Daxter stared as Sig went one way, whistling cheerfully and flipping through his clipboard, and Phoenix went the other, looking more than a little nervous. He glanced up at Jak and quirked an ear in amazement. "Wow. So, uh… is it always like this out here?"

"Much worse, sometimes." Jak didn't look too concerned. "Anyway, let's go. I'm starving! I've been thinking about pizza since I woke up."

"Yeah, that note ya left wasn't a huge clue at all."

"Hey, lay off. I'm really hungry in the morning." Jak slung his bag over his shoulder and began to walk, toward the exit at the end of the bleachers. "I just need to drop off my books and get some actual money and we can go. I don't think the place takes meal cards."

"Ya never know. Their delivery guy's a total stoner. He might be able ta hook ya up." Daxter scampered after his roommate, feeling lighter and somehow bubbly despite the heavy backpack he carried. He couldn't help it—he was beginning to enjoy the time spent hanging out with Jak more and more, especially the times when they went out of their way to hang out rather than simply chancing to be in the dorm room together at the same time. The lightheartedness prompted him to be playful. "Hey, football boy. How 'bout a little race, huh?"

"A race?"

"Yeah. Last one back ta the dorm buys the pizza!"

"I don't know, Dax." Jak's smile wasn't quite condescending, but there was a definite note of big-brother-little-brother in it. "You know I'm the running back. Being fast is what I'm—hey!"

Daxter didn't give the green-blonde a chance to finish the thought. He was off like a shot down the sidewalk toward the main drags of campus, Jak hard on his heels a moment later. Jak was probably right, and he probably didn't have a prayer of winning, but at least he could give the big guy a run for his money. After all, when running from jocks was a full time job, he had gotten pretty good at it.

By the time they reached the dorm, though, Daxter was regretting his challenge slightly. He panted with every breath, silently counting the slaps of his sneakers on the concrete as he sprinted up the path toward the main entrance door. Maybe he should have waited until they were a bit closer to the goal to call a race. But, as he reached the door with a triumphant surge and turned to see where Jak was, his tired legs became irrelevant.

Jak was more than a dozen paces behind him, already slowed to a jog. He finally geared down to a walk, sucking ragged breaths like an overworked racehorse and staring at the redhead in something akin to amazement.

Dax shifted uncertainly. "Uh… I win?"

"Yeah, you win," Jak gasped, leaning against the brick wall and looking at his watch. "And you… should totally be… on the… track team."

"What can I say? Never underestimate the speed of the Orange Lightning, Jakkie-baby." Daxter smirked and held open the door for his tired friend in lieu of smugly polishing his nails on his shirt. "They always learn the hard way."

"Orange Lighting?" Jak blinked cluelessly.

"It's just somethin' I made up ta call myself in middle school gym," the redhead explained as they made their way upstairs to their room. "Kinda dumb, but it made me feel better. Catchin' balls, or hittin' balls, or avoiding bein' hit by balls, I'm not so great at. But nobody could catch me!"

"I believe it," Jak muttered as he unlocked the door. "Not only could I not catch you, I could barely even _keep up_ with you. That's not a huge confidence booster, you know."

"Don't feel bad, big guy." Daxter grinned, dropping into Jak's desk chair simply because it was closer and he lacked the energy to drag himself all the way to his own desk. "You were already tired from practice. I bet you'd have been able ta keep up otherwise."

"I wasn't that tired. And think about it. I train and practice almost every day. I'm in shape. Running is what I do. Sig's always saying my endurance is the best on the team. No offense, you're even smaller than me—and you still beat me. That's impressive."

Daxter could feel his face heating up, flush migrating quickly from his cheeks up his ears. He was used to bragging on himself. Having someone else, specifically someone as awesome as Jak, compliment him and actually mean it made him strangely blushy and squirmy. He quickly turned away, staring fixedly at the small corkboard on the wall next to Jak's desk.

"You realize Sig can never find out about this," the green-blonde joked as he dropped his bag and grabbed his wallet out of the desk drawer near Daxter's elbow. "If he hears that we ran more than a mile in five minutes and I _lost_, he'll have me running suicides for a week!" He paused, looking over Daxter's shoulder. "What're you looking at?"

"You, bein' a dork," the redhead answered without thinking. He shut his mouth quickly, but of course it was already out. He had been staring at the snapshots tacked to the corkboard; he had noticed them before, but never actually looked at them closely. He swallowed a little nervously, hoping Jak wouldn't be mad that he was snooping. "Uh, is that the same girl?"

Jak grinned at the photos. One showed a much younger Jak knee-deep in a creek, side by side with a pigtailed green- and blue-haired little girl as they proudly held a giant bullfrog up to the camera. In another, probably a prom photo, Jak and a green- and blue-haired young lady stood in formal attire giving each other bunny ears. "Yeah, that's Keira. We sort of get into a lot of trouble together."

"That's yer mechanic girl? Wow, she is hot!" The moment the words left his mouth Daxter wanted to smack himself. Never, _never_ call another dude's girl hot to his face! He tensed for the explosion… which never came.

"Told you so. She grew up real nice. Dropped the pigtails and picked up a wrench." Jak fondly straightened the pictures under their thumbtacks. "Ever since we were little she used to climb this big tree in our side yard and crawl in my window. We'd do crazy stuff like that all the time. We used to drive my uncle nuts."

"That's yer uncle?" Daxter asked, looking at a third photo of Jak at what was obviously his high school graduation—cap, gown, triumphant diploma, and an old man in a monocle weeping into a handkerchief while trying to hug Jak around the neck.

"Yeah. He gets a little… emotional, sometimes."

"I bet ya miss 'em, huh? Must be lonely for ya, bein' away from home."

"Well, yeah, sure I miss them. But I'm not lonely. I've got you, and Phoenix, and the coach, and Killer." Jak straightened up and tucked his wallet into his back pocket. "So, are we ready? I'm starving."

"Okay, okay! Jeez, Jak, take a chill pill. I don't care how much energy ya burned off at practice, gnawin' on the paneling isn't gonna do anything but piss Tattooed Wonder off when it comes time fer end-of-semester room inspection." Daxter followed his roommate out, fighting down his second wave of warm fuzzies that day.

- / - / - / - / -

It occurred to Jak, as he started on his fourth slice of extra cheese pizza with the works, that he might want to slow down and save some for Daxter. For all that he was thin as a twig, the redhead usually had an appetite to rival his own. However, the morning's hard exercise had apparently opened an empty hole similar to the Mariana Trench in Jak's stomach, and not filling it was out of the question. "I'll buy another one, I swear," he mumbled, a long string of melted cheese bridging the gap from his mouth to the slice.

Daxter snickered and held his second slice of pizza out of harm's way. "It's all good, big guy, long as ya don't try comin' after the pieces I've already got my hands on. Wouldn't wanna lose a finger."

"Uh, yeah." Jak took a guilty swig of pop to wash down the crust and cleared his throat. Maybe if he talked a little more and ate a little less, his friend would have a chance to claim some food. "So, Dax. You'll never guess what happened at practice today."

"Wait, don't tell me. Somebody tripped the turf sprinklers again?" The redhead's ears flicked as he munched, imagination obviously running at the speed of light. "Nah, last time that happened ya came back lookin' like a mud ball. Somebody else get the boot fer bad behavior? Aliens abduct the water boy?"

Jak grinned. "I wish aliens would abduct the water boy. But no."

"Okay, I give. What happened at practice?"

"Coach Sig said he wants to try switching mine and Phoenix's positions."

Daxter's jaw stopped working mid chew, ears shooting vertical. "Whoa. Seriously?"

"Yeah. Just on a trial basis for now, you know. But apparently he thinks I'd make a decent quarterback."

"Well, damn. Way ta go, Jakkie-boy. Is Phoenix pissed? Didn't he get, like, demoted?"

Jak laughed. "It's not a demotion, it's just a different position. Running backs are a huge part of teams. But no, he's not upset. At least, he had every opportunity to drown me in a toilet in the locker room today and he didn't take it, so I'm led to believe that he's not upset."

Daxter sprayed breadstick crumbs all over his plate as he tried not to choke on his laughter. "Dude, don't say stuff like that when my mouth's full!"

"What, the mental image of me dead with my head in the toilet is funny to you?" The newly-christened quarterback grinned as he reached for slice number five. Screw it; he would definitely buy a second pizza. It was a time to be happy and damn it, pizza made him happy. "Man. I still can't believe Homecoming is in four days and I just got bumped to quarterback."

"I still can't believe I'm gonna be _rooming _with the quarterback." Shaking his head slowly, Daxter reached for the remaining slice. "Sheesh. Talk about life doin' a one-eighty."

"Now, now, Dax. We've had this discussion. It's entirely normal to be a football player and a decent person at the same time." Jak had been going out of his way to chip away at his roommate's hard-learned notions of how a football player was supposed to act, but he still caught the redhead looking at him from time to time like he had come from Mars.

"I hate ta break this to ya, pal, but I repeat: yer about as far from a normal college football star as it's possible ta be." Daxter scrubbed the crumbs from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, an oddly endearing gesture. "Case in point. Here you are, sittin' here eatin' pizza with _me_ instead'a one of yer teammates or a smokin' hot sorority babe who threw herself at yer toes. You think that's normal?"

"I'd say eating lunch with my friend is entirely normal, yeah." Jak reached across the small table to ruffle Daxter's hair. "Jeez, Dax, you act like I wouldn't even speak to you if we didn't just so happen to be roommates. You're not lower class or something because you don't play a sport."

Daxter batted the annoying hand away, but grinned ruefully all the same. "See? That. That right there. You act like we'll still be all buddy-buddy when we ain't even roommates anymore."

Jak faltered, his happy mood taking a dip. Barring Keira, Daxter was easily the best friend he had ever had—even if the redhead seemed determined not to believe it. The idea that they would cease to be friends during their sophomore year simply because summer break kept them apart for three and a half months was unacceptable. "Daxter, even if we don't room together next year, we will still be friends. We'll be friends or so help me I will hunt you down next fall and give you the worst wedgie of your life. Now eat that slice so I can go order another pizza. I'm still hungry."

Daxter blinked at him before taking a huge bite. "Can ya get extra peppers on that?"

"You got it." Jak shoved his seat back from the table, but before he could begin the epic quest for more pizza a cacophonous crash from the direction of the kitchen stopped him cold.

"Damn it, Ximon, will you take your freaking headphones off when I'm trying to yell at you? I said get your skateboard off my floors! It's ruining the laminate!" Another crash echoed as the purple-haired girl behind the counter dropped another pizza pan. "Where have you been? I needed you back here twenty minutes ago!"

Pizza Haven's blonde delivery boy cringed under his backwards baseball cap, holding up his hands in placation. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Simmer down, dudette. What's the rush?"

Daxter snickered, leaning toward Jak to whisper conspiratorially. "I don't think that guy's ever rushed anywhere in his life. But the babe? Hottie!"

Jak nodded covertly, eyes trained on the budding altercation. Would it be possible to kill someone with a breadstick? If so, it looked like the girl was about to commit murder.

"Rush? You wanna know what the _rush_ is? Okay, I'll tell you what the rush is, Ximon." Well manicured hands met the countertop with a decisive thump. "We're seven delivery orders behind schedule, since _somebody_ seems to think it's acceptable to park their rust bucket at the game store while they're on the clock. I'm the only person in this godforsaken building making pizza, boxing pizza, serving up orders, and trying to keep the dining room presentable, since our cook and all three of our waiters decided that they were too hung over to show up to their jobs this morning. Well, guess what happens when you don't do your _job_, Ximon? You get fired!"

The blonde winced, blanching under his shaggy goatee. "Taryn. Sweetheart. Beautiful cousin that I adore only in the most platonic and non-creepy of ways. Can't we have a calzone and talk this over?"

Locks of purple hair swirled around her reddened cheeks as an oven timer went off in the recesses of the kitchen and Taryn spun on her heel to tend to it. "Oh, you can bet I'm going to talk this over—with Uncle Osmo, as soon as possible. I can't work like this! I'm a manager, not an octopus. I can't do it all myself. If he wants this place to stay above water then I need some decent help!"

An awkward silence stretched.

Daxter glanced back and forth between Jak and the dejected delivery boy. "Sooo. I'm guessing now's not the best time ta ask for more breadsticks?"

"Huh? Oh, no problemo, dude. Got you covered." Ximon ambled behind the counter and reappeared a moment later with a fresh basket of breadsticks for their table. "They're not exactly warm anymore, but I guess we're a little short on help today. So what's up, dudes? I remember you guys, totally."

The redhead reached for a breadstick, ears flicking idly. "Are you sure? There have ta be some other guys out in the dorms with a pet ferret that ran under the bed with yer tip an' put tooth holes in the bill."

Jak cleared his throat. Funny, he had almost managed to forget about that rather embarrassing incident. "Sorry again about that. I promise he'll be in the cage next time we order out."

"Duuuude." Ximon laughed and offered a peaceable fist bump. "No sweat. One of the most interesting deliveries I ever made. Oh, hey!" His ears flew up in sudden inspiration. "You dudes should totally come work here! This place would get a lot more entertaining. Plus, I got a feeling the Taryn-ator fired the rest of our employees this morning."

"I heard that!" she yelled from the kitchen. "Quit yakking and get those deliveries out! If they want a job, tell them to fill out applications."

"So, how 'bout it, dudes? You up for it?"

"Eh, why not." Daxter shrugged. "A little extra cash never hurt nobody. Jak can't, though, sorry. His job is throwin' footballs and lookin' pretty for the ladies. You'd have a coach the size of a rhino out for yer blood if ya tried ta steal him away from practice."

"No problem, dude. Well, I gotta hit the trail, y'know? There's a stack of applications by the register. Just fill one out, bring it back, and I'll hook you up with my old man. He'll hire you on the spot. Catch you later, dudes!"

Jak watched him go, then looked at Daxter sidelong and shook his head. "If you get a job here and start saying 'dude' all the time, just to warn you—I might have to change schools."

** o**

In the end they got the second pizza to go. It seemed kinder, somehow, than to stay and watch Taryn slowly lose her mind.

"She totally would'a given you a discount on that, y'know," Daxter said as they strolled up the sidewalk outside the dorm. "I can't imagine many people would be nice enough ta buy a pizza somebody else didn't want 'cause they didn't get it delivered fast enough."

"Yeah, I know. But it's a perfectly good pizza. I wouldn't feel right getting it cheap for no reason."

The redhead grinned. "Jakkie-boy, there's somethin' wrong in yer head. In a good way, though, I guess."

"Hey, you're the one who cleaned up the dining room without getting paid. You don't even work there yet."

"Uh, _yeah_. Hot babe, Jak, hot babe! She clearly needed help, and damsels in distress are my specialty. Kinda like Tattooed Wonder. He's out there with his damsel right now." Daxter pointed across the lawn, to where Torn and a young woman with bright red hair, also in dreadlocks, were chest to chest and shouting. The girl was standing on her toes to look Torn in the eye while she gestured dramatically.

Jak was unimpressed. "If Ashelin's a damsel, I'm a squirrel. Come on, they can't even stand each other."

"They're gonna get married," Daxter cooed, lacing his fingers under his chin and batting his eyelashes cutely. "True love, right there."

Privately the green-blonde thought that whatever stars had aligned to put Ashelin Praxis on the same floor Torn inhabited were destructive ones. She was the haughty, snide daughter of the high-profile politician whose generous donations to Haven U years ago had built the dorm they currently lived in. Torn was a cold, calculating rebel through and through who made it blatantly clear what he thought of such "charitable" publicity stunts. At the head of opposing halls, forever bent on securing the upper hand in an ongoing battle of floor supremacy that had apparently been simmering for the entirety of the three years that Ashelin had been an RA, the two were less than lovebirds.

As if echoing the thought, the two suddenly broke off the argument and stalked apart. Torn made a beeline for the two friends on the sidewalk, ears back flat and his countenance grim as autumn storm clouds. "Jak!" he barked, before they could be alarmed enough to flee. "I need you!"

Daxter's brows shot up. "Rawr! Why, Torn, I never knew you were so sweet on Blondie, here—"

"Shut up, Daxter. Jak! That _tramp_ of an undergrad senior just challenged us in the dorm relay this weekend. You and Phoenix are in—I don't think she's even realized I have football players. That works in our favor. And we'll get Razer, he can run. He jogs all the damn time, anyway."

Jak's ears slowly wilted under the barrage. "Uh, Torn, you do realize that Homecoming Weekend is supposed to be fun, right? We have dorm games and stuff to have fun."

"Fun went out the window when she said I couldn't RA a group of preschoolers," Torn growled flatly. "This is a matter of pride now. Three-West will not fall to Three-East's flying monkeys and their mistress."

"Ouch!" Daxter laughed. "You all have fun with that."

"All we need is a fourth runner and we're golden. Someone who can keep up with you, Jak. Any suggestions?"

After the second it took for the question to sink in, Jak's ears perked. "Daxter."

Torn stared. "Come again?"

"Dax. He's your fourth runner."

Daxter's eyes widened hugely. "Whoa, whoa, Jak, wait a sec—!"

"As if. You really expect me to believe this little shrimp can go up against the athletes? I happen to know there's at least one baseball player on Ashelin's side. Those bastards are fast."

Jak dropped a hand on Daxter's shoulder, steadying the jittery redhead and grinning at the RA. "Torn, listen. We raced each other back here from the stadium this morning and I couldn't catch him. Trust me. Start the race with Razer and have him hand off to Phoenix. Put me and Dax at the end of the relay. We'll dominate, I promise."

Silence broken only by traffic and late cicadas stretched for long moments, wherein Torn stared hard and Daxter blinked like a cornered owlet. Finally Torn nodded. "Alright, you two are in. The honor of 3W is in your hands now. If you'll excuse me, I have to find Phoenix." He brushed past them toward the doors, looking more determined than ever.

Jak turned to Daxter, letting some of the excitement of Homecoming Week bubble up for the first time. "Sweet! We're gonna kick ass. Is this cool, or what?"

Daxter stared up at him in horror before throwing up his hands in a move that almost knocked the pizza box out of Jak's own. "What did you just DO ta me?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" Jak held the box up out of harm's way and watched curiously as his roommate had a spaz attack. "It's just a race."

"I have absolutely zero desire ta run in front'a the whole damn dorm, ya big lug! What happens when I fall on my face an' blow it, huh? I'll look like an idiot! Torn's gonna kill me!"

Jak laughed. "Come on, Dax, you're gonna be fine. You're a great runner. It's no big deal."

"Easy fer you ta say," the redhead sulked, pouting up at him with an almost wounded look. "You perform in front'a tons of people all the time. Of course it's no big deal ta you. An' people don't hate you if ya lose."

Something about that pitiful little wibble was so cute that Jak almost wanted to drop the pizza and hug his friend right there on the sidewalk. Knowing the ear-rending shrieking that would come of being treated like the quarterback's kid brother, though, he wisely didn't follow up on the urge. "Daxter, I promise you, you're going to do great. You won't fall on your face, and no one will hate you. And if you do, just blame it all on me. That's what the football team does, anyway."

"If I bomb this I'm gonna do more than blame ya, I'm gonna smother you in yer sleep," the redhead whined, crossing his arms and still glaring. "And I know where you sleep, Jak!"

"Your threat has been duly noted. Now let's go eat the pizza, huh? I need to find Phoenix when Torn's done with him—we have to come up with our battle plan for the game Friday."

"Runnin' the dorm races in the morning, playin' the Homecoming game in the evening, an' who knows what else in between. Yer just an overachiever, is what ya are!"

Jak grinned and lead the way up to the door without comment. In a way, Daxter was right. It was going to be one hell of a week, and he was in it up to his eyeballs. But it was also going to be an exciting week, and he was happy to have a friend like Dax to share it with.

** - / - / - / - / -  
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To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

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There were plenty of requests that Daxter had never expected to have to make, in college or otherwise. "Please wash your ferret more quietly" was one of them. The redhead stared blankly at the math book spread open on the desk in front of him. The entirety of his concentration was being leeched by the production taking place on the rug behind him, starring his roommate and a very wet, very disagreeable ferret.

"Fer the love of—Jak, could you maybe hurry it along a little? I'm tryin' ta study, here!"

"No, you're trying to cram. There's a difference."

"I tell ya I'm power studying! It's like power napping. Just different."

Jak blocked Killer from escaping the Ferret Bucket with one hand and poured a cup of warm water over him with the other. A bottle of special shampoo lay abandoned on the rug beside them. "Sorry. I'm going as fast as I can. He's not being very cooperative and it's not easy in such a small space, you know?"

The green-blonde had turned up with The Ferret Bucket a week or so after he turned up with the ferret, on the grounds that taking Killer to the showers wasn't an option if they didn't want his existence known to everyone in the dorm. Daxter had to admit that the logic was sound. The bucket had been holding their dish soap and laundry detergent, as the ferret hadn't become dirty enough to warrant needing its usage—until that night, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. I know it needed done. But trust yer weasel ta take a dive in the soda ocean at midnight when I got an exam in eight hours!" It was empty griping, but it made him feel better.

"I still can't figure out why he did that," Jak grumbled as he tried and mostly failed to clean behind tiny ears. "He's never shown any interest in cups before."

It was almost cute, in retrospect, the ferret sneaking onto Jak's desk to twine himself around the big Styrofoam fountain soda cup and chew on the straw. The part that happened after—the part that involved said soda and said ferret plummeting off the desk and Jak and Daxter cracking heads in an attempt to intercept the impending disaster—wasn't so cute. Sticky floor, sticky rug, sticky pet, and lingering headache meant that Dax had gotten considerably less done than he had hoped during his "power study" session.

Finally Jak lifted Killer from the bucket. "There, all done. Not so bad." He plunked the sopping ferret into a waiting towel and ruffled the bundle soundly until its inmate was mostly dry. "Okay. Back in the cage. And stay clean, you little punk."

"Oh, yeah, ya sure told him," Daxter grumbled as he found his pencil once more. "I highly doubt weasels go out'a their way ta listen when their handlers talk."

Jak cocked his head curiously and came to stand next to Daxter's desk. He leaned casually against the support of the bunk bed, simply watching. "Are you okay? You seem kind of stressed out."

"Stressed out? Why would I be stressed out? I'm not stressed out!"

The green-blonde winced and rubbed at his ear. "Okay. Then why is your voice cracking?"

Daxter blinked silently up at him. His mouth fell open. And he let out everything that had been building for the past three days. "Well, Jakkie-boy, my voice _might_ be crackin' because I _might_ have a huge freakin' math exam first thing in the morning, and it _might_ be really hard ta bring my grade back up if I bomb this thing, and then I _might_ get put on academic probation, and get all those pity scholarships taken away, and get kicked out'a school, and have nowhere ta go! Oh, yeah, and let's not forget that two hours after this awesome test, I have this really fantastic _race_ ta run in, with the whole damn dorm watchin' me! And after _that_, hot damn, gotta go turn in that job application, yeah boy! I've never had a job before, Jak! Do I _look_ like I can handle a job? And where the hell are all my socks? Have you seen my socks, because they're all disappearin', every damn pair of 'em—!"

"Daxter." A big hand landed on his shoulder, making the redhead jump in his chair. Jak stared at him with wide eyes. "I think this is entirely essential to your health—breathe."

Wow, how about that. Daxter sucked in a deep breath, only suddenly realizing that he was panting for air and the pencil in his fist was cracking with the force of his grip. Calm. Enter the calm. Then Jak moved suddenly, from beside him to behind him, and there were two hands on his shoulders instead of one. Two very strong hands, uncomfortably close to his neck. The redhead ducked instinctively, sinking down in his chair as he tried to squirm out from under them.

"Hey, hold still. Let me try something."

"Strangling me ain't gonna help! I'm desperate, but not enough ta need put out'a my misery!"

Jak snorted. In a moment he had Daxter under the arms and had hauled him upright again. "I'm not strangling you, I'm helping you. Stay still."

The kneading that began a moment later was completely unexpected, and the simple fact that it had come as such a surprise would have been enough to snap Daxter out of his borderline hysteria. As it was, the attempted soothing made him freeze in shock as Jak began to rub his shoulders.

"Damn, you really are knotted up," Jak commented as his palms cupped bony shoulders and his fingers dug into tense muscle. "Feels like you've been wound up for a week."

"Y-yeah?" Maybe because he had been.

"Yeah. Tell me if something hurts, okay?"

The redhead managed a short, jerky nod and sat very still. How were you supposed to respond to something like this? He'd never had a shoulder rub in his life. For lack of knowing what to do Daxter simply sat and quivered, shivers running up and down his spine as Jak's strong hands forced the tightness from his shoulders and the back of his neck. Oh, this was weird. This was so weird. All this touchy-feely _had_ to be weird, right? But it felt sooo nice.

He loosed a soft, less than manly squeak when Jak changed course and began to rub up the sides of his stiff neck, kneading circles up to just under his flagging ears before backtracking to repeat the process. Every hair on Daxter's body stood up at the foreign sensation. He could feel his ears flushing alarmingly.

Jak laughed. "Feels good, huh?"

Daxter mumbled an agreement, red ears drooping. It felt much too good to make his roommate stop, at any rate. Even if it was a little bit weird.

"Keira taught me how to do this. She used to rub my neck for me after games. She's really good at it. A lot better than me, anyway. Do you feel like it's helping any?"

"Mmmph." Daxter gave a bleary nod in the affirmative and slumped forward in his chair, head pillowed on the math book he had disliked so much just a few minutes before. It felt like his bones were slowly turning into goo. He could get used to this.

Damn, Jak certainly was multitalented. He was a good student, a great football player, gave top notch shoulder rubs, and made a mean cup of microwave noodles. Mmm, noodles… As if on cue, Daxter's stomach rumbled loudly.

Jak laughed. He stepped back and let Daxter sit up again. "Jeez, Dax, did you even eat dinner?"

"No." He stretched, feeling a pleasantly warm tingle in his shoulders and neck. "Wasn't hungry."

Jak's smile faded. "Have you eaten _anything_ today?"

"Sure I did. I had an apple fer breakfast. And milk."

"Dax!" The green-blonde looked almost scandalized.

"What? Just 'cause you need enough food ta power a small country doesn't mean everybody else—what're you doin'?"

Jak had grabbed the Ferret Bucket. He had a purposeful gleam in his eye. "I'm going to the utility room to dump this, and then we're going to get food."

"Uh, hellooo, Earth ta Jak." Daxter grabbed his clock from the back of the desk and waved it at his roommate. "It's past midnight. The dining room's closed. An' even if it wasn't, I couldn't get nothin' anyway. Dinner call ended hours ago an' I don't have extra points on my meal card like _some_ people." As if. State-supported tuition and funding only went so far, and thus his on-the-house meal plan was exceptionally basic. He should probably feel grateful they were feeding him at all.

Jak's eyes narrowed at the challenge. He sat the bucket back on the rug and crossed to his own desk. A short dig through one of its drawers saw him emerge triumphantly a moment later, a menu held up for Daxter to see. Bamboo Express: 24-hour delivery.

Daxter huffed and looked pointedly back to his math book. "Sure. Fine. Do whatever ya want, pal. I'm studyin', not eatin'." And that was his final answer.

- / - / - / - / -

Twenty minutes later they were both cross-legged on the rug with white take out cartons of eggrolls, sesame chicken, lo mein, and fried rice. Daxter ate ravenously, as Jak had known he would.

"Cheater," Jak teased, pointing at Daxter with his chopsticks.

"Hey, whatever!" Another forkful of noodles disappeared. "I can't even cross my fingers an' you expect me ta eat with sticks? Yeah, right."

The green-blonde chuckled. "See, isn't this better than cramming?"

"Yeah, sure. If I fail that test tomorrow I'm blamin' you."

"Dax, you're not going to fail it. You do your assignments… mostly. You go to class… a big percentage of the time. You do pretty well on the quizzes. Right?"

Daxter's ears flicked back. "Well, yeah. But this is a _test_, Jak! The entire purpose of tests is ta make ya fail 'em!"

Jak arched a brow. "Oh, really? Here I always thought they were supposed to make sure you really understand what you're studying. How did I go so wrong for so many years?"

"Smart ass," Daxter pouted.

"Seriously. You'll be fine. Have a little faith in yourself. You know this stuff." Jak offered his friend a fortune cookie. "And if you get stuck on a problem and feel like you're starting to stress out, just take a breath and try to remember that page from the book. It really works."

"Easy fer you ta say," the redhead grumbled. "Of course you can be confident. You can do _everything_."

Jak blinked. "Huh? No, I can't."

"Sure ya can. Look at ya. Everything about you's golden." Daxter began to tick points off on his fingers. "Yer an athlete, yer popular, ya get good grades, yer cool without even tryin' ta be, ya got a sexy tomboy girlfriend—"

"Keira isn't my girlfriend." It slipped out before Jak could process what he was saying, the only thing he could think of to say that would stop the increasingly agitated list of his imagined perfections.

The tirade ended abruptly and confused blue eyes blinked up at him. "Uh… what?"

"She's not my girlfriend." Jak's ears fell sheepishly. "It's kind of complicated."

For the first time that night, Daxter looked interested in something other than his looming math exam. "Uh-huh. Explanations? Details?"

Jak rubbed at the back of his neck. How to put this? "Well, Keira and I are best friends. We were joined at the hip from Kindergarten to high school. Everyone just assumed we were dating. It was easier to go along with it than try to explain, you know? And after a while we realized that when everyone thought we were the school's hottest item, it kept the jerks from hitting on her and the prep girls from hanging all over me. As much." He grinned at the memories. "So we started keeping up appearances."

"Wow." Daxter cracked his fortune cookie into his rice and started to nibble. "I never heard that one before."

The quarterback shrugged. "It worked. Mostly."

"So, wait, lemme get this straight. You an' that machine shop cutie pretended ta go steady fer _years?_ An' it was only pretend? You two never did _anything_ like a real couple? Holy damn, just think of the buddies with benefits you could'a—"

"Well. Um." Jak could feel his ears heating up.

"Oh, man, you did! You so totally did!" Daxter pointed accusingly, clearly having fun in his wicked glee. "I knew it!"

"Oh, shut up." Jak tossed an empty carton at the trash and landed a clear shot. "Yeah, we did. We fooled around all the time. But it wasn't pervy, okay? And it wasn't really romantic, either. We were so close already by the time we started doing stuff like that, it felt kind of… natural, I guess. It was comfortable."

"You lucky sonuva bitch," Daxter breathed reverently.

"I didn't used to think so. Do you know how hard it is to jerk off when your best friend could climb in your bedroom window any second, day or night? Before we started helping each other out with that I was permanently paranoid."

The redhead snickered. "Yeah, I bet." He went back to his rice, then looked up again. "Hold on. Yer sayin' that a girl yer own age had round the clock access ta yer room, an' yer parents never cared? Seriously?"

Jak smirked. "Last time I lived with my parents I was a toddler. And Uncle's a really heavy sleeper."

"Sheesh. I say again, sooo lucky." Daxter leaned back against the front of Jak's wardrobe, sighing in contentment now that his stomach was finally full. His hand fell to the rug, fingers threading through the fibers. "So. I been wonderin'. You talk about yer uncle all'a time. What happened ta yer parents? If ya don't mind me pokin' around where it's none'a my business."

"No, no. It's fine." Daxter had already divulged much about his life that he didn't seem quite comfortable with. The very least Jak could do was return the favor. He reached behind himself to the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the small framed photograph lying on top of the pile inside. "Here's me and my mom and dad. See, they do exist."

Daxter took the picture and examined it. "Aww, how cute. Fluffy little baby Jakkie. You look like yer mom." His ears swiveled curiously. "She looks kinda tired."

"Yeah. She was already sick when we had that picture taken, I guess. She died not long after that."

Daxter winced. "Sorry."

"It's okay, really. All the memories I have of us are good ones." Jak took the picture back and stretched up his arm to put it on the desk. He really needed to find a suitable place to put it out. "Dad didn't do so well after that, though. He asked Mom's favorite uncle to look after me while he pulled himself back together, but it took a while. By the time he was ready to take me back I had already settled in with Uncle, so he let me stay. We were together all the time, though."

"Ya still see him a lot?" The redhead had his chin on his knees, watching Jak very seriously. Too seriously, for him.

"Pretty much every holiday. He's military, so he wound up getting transferred my junior year. I couldn't leave Uncle, and Keira, and school. He didn't have a problem with me staying behind. Guess he didn't want to uproot me so close to graduation."

"That's cool. I mean, it's cool he still cares."

"Yeah." Jak smiled. "You'll have to meet him sometime. He's a pretty neat guy. Little gruff, but cool."

Daxter glanced back up at the photograph. "You kiddin'? He's huge! Big ol' military guy an' little tiny me? I've never done a pull up in my life!"

"That's okay. Just beat him in a foot race. Instant respect."

"Race. Right." Daxter instantly looked squeamish.

Jak sighed. He had almost forgotten the evening's main concern amid their wandering conversations, but it seemed that Daxter sure hadn't. "Look. You're going to do great tomorrow. Trust me. You're going to whip this test, and then you're going to come back here ready to run because you and me are going to win that race."

The redhead looked up at him suddenly, eyes wide. "Me… an' you?"

"Well, yeah. You're not the only one running, you know. I'm right up there with you." Jak grinned and reached out a hand, helping his friend to his feet. "Personally, I don't think Ashelin's team will have a chance. Not with us on the relay. Maybe we can give them a head start to make it fair."

"Yeah… Yeah, that's right!" Suddenly Daxter was smiling again, his relief almost tangible. Apparently Jak had said something right. "That'd totally make it fair. 'Cause me an' you are just gonna be too awesome ta handle, right? We'll be like those ancient soldiers, goin' into battle together, kickin' so much ass—"

"Passing out from sheer exhaustion, if we don't get some sleep." Jak snaked an arm around Daxter's neck from behind and pulled him in for a surprise hair ruffle.

"Gah! Leggo, get off, get off!" Daxter squirmed and squealed, but was only able to pull away when Jak laughed and let him go. By that point his hair was spiked in a thousand different directions. He glared, trying to comb it back into place with his fingers. "That's sad, Jak. Real sad. We're supposed ta be comrades in arms, an' you do that ta me!"

_It's because you're so damn cute,_ Jak wanted to say. However, he did not want to get kicked in the shin. He needed to be in top form for running himself stupid the next day, and painful experience had taught him well, so he very wisely did not call Daxter a cute widdle ninth grader and try to hug him. Instead, he threw away the remainder of the take out cartons. "Alright, I'm calling it a night."

"What, so soon?" came the sarcastic reply. "Sun ain't even up yet. The night's still young."

The green-blonde shrugged out of his shirt and checked his alarm, then Killer's food and water—a nightly pre-bed ritual. "Just don't stay up too late, alright? You really won't do well on that test if you're so tired you can't keep your eyes open."

For a moment Daxter looked like he was cooking up an argument. Then his eyes wandered back to his desk, the math book still open on it. Apparently it looked a lot less inviting than his treasured bunk. "… yeah, I guess yer right. If I don't know that crap by now, I won't know it by mornin'."

"You'll be okay. For the last time." Jak chuckled and slid into bed. A moment later the lamp on Daxter's desk clicked off, and the bed frame shook a bit as he nimbly scaled the narrow ladder to the top bunk. Rustle, rustle rustle, aaand… silence.

The silence stretched for several minutes. Jak was almost asleep when the quiet whisper came.

"Hey, Jak?"

"Mmmph." As intelligent a reply as he was going to manage when his pillow was so soft and inviting.

"Thanks."

Jak yawned. "For what?"

"Fer the midnight snack. An' makin' me feel better. An' the… neck rub. Thing."

"No problem. S'what friends are for." Whatever mumbled answer that might have come was lost on Jak. He fell quickly to sleep with a full stomach, a growing sense of excitement for the coming day, and a lighter heart for having been able to help a little.

- / - / - / - / -

_I will not bail. I will not bail. I will not bail._

Daxter's internal mantra kept his sneakers glued to the bright piece of tape on the sidewalk that curled around the back of Praxis Hall. While every instinct but one was pushing him to bolt from the spot and hide under a shrub until this whole mess was over, that one instinct that said otherwise was enough to override the others: _Don't make Jak look bad. _ He shifted nervously next to the three other waiting runners, one from each of the remaining halls of the third floor. The butterflies that had invaded his gut during the math exam that morning intensified, bringing all their caterpillars along to join the party.

The redhead sighed. Well, at least in a footrace there were no wrong answers to calculate. All he had to do was run; run, and not trip up between there and the finish line. Part of him was still queasy that he would be the one to make or break the contest for their team, but another part was somehow relieved that the last leg of the course was almost entirely behind the dorm, hidden from the crowds of spectators on the lawn out front. He would only be seen for a few moments, down the final stretch where the sidewalk curled back around to the front of the building and all the way to the finish line.

A sudden bang snapped him from his thoughts. A roar went up from the crowd out front. _Ohmygod, it started! Gotta wait for Jak, gotta wait for Jak, gotta wait for Jak—! _Razer would be running half the perimeter of the front lawn. He would hand off to Phoenix, who would run the remainder of the lawn sidewalk and hand off to Jak. And Jak would be coming though the trees around the side of the dorm to meet him. The moment of truth had arrived.

When Jak did come sprinting around the side of the building what felt like mere moments—but had to be at least a full minute—later, Daxter was caught off guard. The green-blonde seemed to bring a gust of the season's first falling leaves with him. His hair blew wildly around his shoulders as usual, despite how often Phoenix offered him hair bands. But what really brought Dax up short was the look of pure happiness on his roommate's face. Even though Jak was easily three seconds ahead of his closest pursuer, his grin didn't seem to be stemming from anticipated victory. He was simply happy to be competing, to be moving, to be running through the dappled sunshine and falling leaves and crisp early-autumn air.

Jak's smile widened as he closed the distance between them. "Ready, Dax?"

Daxter's feet were already moving when he snagged the plastic barbell from Jak's outstretched hand. Their palms grazed—he had the marker—and he was bolting in the other direction, keeping 3W in the lead.

"Go for it, Orange Lightning!" Jak laughed as he came to a stop on the strip of concrete Daxter had just left, and the unexpected cheer brought an equally unexpected smile to a freckled face.

Jak really did believe in him, didn't he? And he already had the lead. Maybe he really did have a chance of winning this thing for them!

Daxter tunneled his focus on the sidewalk in front of him, trying not to think of the other runners behind. The bend in the course that would take them up the side of the dorm past the cafeteria loading dock was approaching rapidly. If he could stay in the lead around that sharp corner it might give him more of an edge. The redhead put on a burst of speed and rounded the turn strides ahead of his opponents. And there, parked smack in the sidewalk less than three feet from the kitchen dock, was a huge delivery truck.

He had half a second to decide to dart for that scant space between brick wall and chrome fender. Going out and around the sudden obstacle would take too long, and the opening was just wide enough for one person at a time to get through. _I can do this! I can totally do this!_

Then the doors at the rear of the truck swung open with a bang. "Hey, Jerry, can I get a hand? This milk's getting warm."

What happened was pure instinct. With no time to change course and too much momentum to stop before colliding with the solid sheet of metal door that had suddenly appeared at chest level, Daxter did the only thing he could—he went down feet first, hit the small pile of fallen leaves already built up against the barrier of the loading dock, and slid under the door in a perfect home plate slide.

"You idiot, move the truck! We're running here!" The shout from behind and the thud of the doors swinging quickly closed barely registered. Daxter was already back on his feet and flying, adrenaline pulsing double-time.

_Did the other guys get through? Did they stop the race?_ He glanced back over his shoulder right before the sidewalk curved out to the front lawn and saw all three of the other runners still close behind. It seemed that he had been the only one slowed by the road block after all. _Oh well, I guess nobody can say I cheated. Must… run… faster!_

Run faster he did. He hit the edge of the crowd and breezed past Torn, whose scowl changed at once to amazed and slightly wicked glee when he saw his hall poised on the brink of victory. The thought of what would happen to him at the RA's hands if he bungled things now spurred Daxter on, and before he could think further he was skidding to a stop several yards past the finish marker.

Torn was next to him in an instant, grabbing his wrist that still clutched the barbell and waving it over their heads. "Win! Win, win, win! In your face, Ashelin!"

The girl in question glared silently from the sidelines, her ears tipping back as her face slowly turned a red to match her hair.

Daxter panted to get his breathing back under control. That was it? He had won? Nothing bad had happened after all? People he didn't even know were laughing, clapping, and whistling for his victory. He was grinning hugely when a baby rhino plowed into him from behind. Or, at least that's what it felt like.

"Great job, Dax!" Jak yelled. He lifted the startled redhead off his feet and spun him in a circle, disregarding the panicked yelp the move caused. "I knew you could do it!"

"Put me down, ya psycho!" Daxter yelled, but he was laughing so hard the words lost all relevancy.

"Let's move it off the sidewalk, people," Torn called, making herding motions with his arms. He was still grinning somewhat maniacally. "The next floor's relay is about to start. Hey, where are Phoenix and Razer? Someone needs to take a shot of the winning team. Can I get a camera over here?"

Said teammates appeared through the throngs of spectators in short order, and the spectacle of three obviously attractive athletes grouped together in high spirits made Daxter want to slink backward into the crowd and out of sight—if Jak's brawny arm wasn't behind him, keeping him close as they picked their way through said crowd to a less busy spot at the edge of the lawn. It was the strangest feeling in the world to know that right then, he was part of _their _crowd.

"What happened to you, Daxter?" Phoenix laughed, brushing at the leaves and dirt still clinging to the back of his shirt. "You look like you've been rolling in the woods."

"Better than that," Jak said before the redhead could respond. "You should have seen the stunt he pulled back there. The track team and the baseball team are going to have a bloody battle to the death over who gets him next season."

Dax glanced up at him in puzzlement. "Wait, what? You saw that?"

"Yeah. I wanted to see you win, so I ran after you guys. Why so surprised?"

All Daxter could do was shake his head in wonderment as Torn came dashing up again with a camera in hand.

"Alright, men, look victorious. This is our gloating shot and it's going on the hall bulletin board."

"Hey, hang on a second," Jak said.

His painstakingly fine-tuned sixth sense that could detect a jock on the hunt from three locker bays away had to be losing its touch. That was the only explanation of why, when Jak grabbed him again, Daxter didn't so much as flinch. Even when he suddenly found himself hoisted bodily and clinging to the green-blonde's back a moment later, all he did was blink down at Jak cluelessly.

"Okay, that's perfect." Torn raised the camera. "Say 'Ashelin lost the bet and now she owes Torn a loser's forfeit'!"

"She's totally gonna make you Ex-Lax brownies," Daxter commented, wrapping his arms around Jak's shoulders so as not to slip as the camera clicked.

Trophy picture secured, Torn immediately made his exit. Faced with the choice of fighting the crowd to see the rest of the dorm's halls run their respective relays and finding a spot to simply unwind after their own run, the champions of 3W quietly extricated themselves from the scene of the action and made their way to the quad. The expanse of grass and sunshine was all but empty with everyone clustering around the dorms.

"Let's sit over here, guys." Jak chose a large, spreading tree and sat down under it. It was a spot Daxter had caught him napping in on several occasions.

"You know, boy, humanity has invented something called a bench," Razer said sarcastically, but when Phoenix flopped down next to Jak in the tree's shade, he grudgingly did too.

Dax snorted as he dropped down on Jak's other side. "What's the problem, Fancy Nancy, don't wanna get yer stockings dirty?"

"Some of us prefer to save on the laundry bill by not lying in the dirt like dogs," the transfer student growled, blowing a smoke ring at Daxter's head.

"We're not in the dirt, we're in the grass." Jak stretched out easily, hands behind his head, looking perfectly relaxed. One would have thought he wasn't competing in a game of much higher stakes in a few short hours. "Did you look over the game plays I sent you last night, Phoenix?"

"Yes. What can I say? I couldn't have done better myself. We're going to murder the opposition."

"Yeeeah. You guys have fun with that." Daxter smirked as he leaned back against the tree trunk. Running, tripping, crashing, falling at high speeds? Slamming into other players and the ground with enough force to total a sedan? They could keep it.

"You're coming, right?" Jak asked.

"Eh?" The redhead glanced down at Jak's upside-down face in surprise.

"You're going to be at the game tonight, aren't you?"

He hadn't been planning on it. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He was sure the Haven Warriors would win—how could they not, with a secret weapon like Jak at the helm?—and anyway he wouldn't even be able to see Jak afterwards, not with the crowds of adoring fans that would be swamping the team. Daxter had been more than content with the personal game play of waiting for Jak to tell him all about it when he staggered back to their room that night. But now, looking down into Jak's trusting face, he felt like he was poised to kick a puppy. A very big puppy with blue eyes and a cute little green goatee.

"Uh, sure. I'll be there."

Jak smiled. "Thanks. It helps to know somebody's up in the stands cheering, you know?"

"Yeah, you bet. I got yer back. But don't expect pompoms, alright? I don't do pompoms."

"I will be coming along as well," Razer mentioned casually, grinding his cigarette butt in the moss. "I suppose I would be less than a friend if I didn't."

Phoenix laughed. "Careful, Razer. People will start to think you've given up tolerating me and decided to enjoy my company."

Razer tilted his ears regally, inclined his head, and huffed.

They sat on the quad for a long while as late morning turned to afternoon, simply hanging out, enjoying the warm air and the breeze through the changing leaves. Jak shuffled up from his sprawl to lean his head and shoulders against Daxter's side in a makeshift pillow. Dax patted his head and chuckled wryly. Big puppy, indeed.

It was almost a shock when Phoenix stood, stretched, and looked down at the two of them. "Well, Jak, shall we? We're supposed to be at the stadium early this evening. If you want to eat, we'd better do it soon."

Daxter glanced casually down at his watch. Then he did a double-take, eyes widening in shock. "Oh, crap, an' I've gotta get ta class! Why didn't ya tell me it was so late?" He struggled out from under Jak's shoulder. "See ya after the game, Jakkie-boy! Break a leg out there!" He bolted off, then thought better of it and paused to yell back over his shoulder, "But not literally!"

Against all odds, as he reenacted the morning's race in a mad dash back to the dorm to collect his books, Dax found himself beginning to look forward to the evening. The hard part of his day was done. Now all he had to do was relax in the bleachers and let himself be wowed by his awesomely cool roommate. And wowing people, as he had discovered, was rather easy for Jak to do.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/-/-/-/-/-/

"Oh, wow, they're gonna go for it! They're totally gonna go for it! Can ya believe that?"

The smoke from Razer's cigarette eddied around their heads in the cool night air as he exhaled, scanning the field with a critical eye. "It looks like Jak has convinced them. Very bold. I wonder if he can pull it off."

"Of course he can pull it off," Daxter scoffed, cramming another handful of stadium popcorn into his mouth. "Jak's awesome. He can do it."

"We shall see."

Nice as it was to have some company so he didn't feel completely out of place in the stands (and also someone to explain the game to him), the suave transfer student needed a crash course in cheerleading. Batting a dismissive hand at his companion, Daxter turned his attention back to the gridiron.

It was the first football game that he had ever attended, mostly because it was the first football game he had ever given a crap about. Having a friend down there made all the difference. However, it didn't hurt that it had been a very exciting game. It was also a very close game—sudden-death overtime, to be exact. Coach Sig was having a coronary on the sidelines. Five yard line, fourth down, and Jak had decided that they would chance it. The redhead watched with bated breath as the opposing teams went back into position after the short time out.

Suddenly there was a shrill whistle, and then a tumult of motion. Daxter slid to the edge of his bleacher seat, peering down intently. From their seats less than twenty rows up he was easily able to spot Jak. For some reason he felt a swell of pride as he watched his friend breeze along effortlessly, as if nothing in the world could touch him. But the other team was moving, too.

"Razer, I don't understand football—what's happening?"

"The other team is trying a blitz," Razer explained as his carefully casual voice rose in excitement despite himself, right along with everyone else in the overflowing stadium. "They were supposed to have waited several seconds, but they've broken too soon—they're going to take Jak down!"

"Like hell they will!" Daxter yelled indignantly, popcorn scattering to the winds as he jumped to his feet. "Dammit, I can't see!" Sometimes it really sucked to be short. Like in the middle of crowds. He scrambled on top of the bench and could suddenly see above the sea of heads and shoulders; no less than three players were closing in on Jak, determined to take the quarterback out before he could finish that scale-tipping run. "Oh shit, oh, shit—hey, there's Phoenix!"

Razer's ears went up in interest as Phoenix raced in at an angle, on a crash course with the three tailing Jak. "What is that crazy boy—?"

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as Phoenix left the ground and collided with one of the players on Jak's heels, hitting him square at the waist. Whether he had planned it or not, the resulting effect was almost unbelievable: the first man crashed into the second, the second slammed into the third, and they all went down in a glorious display of flailing limbs as Jak ran under the goal post, still firmly in possession of the ball.

"They did it!" Daxter whooped, laughing in his relief as the Haven U side of the stadium promptly lost their shit in a deafening chorus of victory cheers and screaming. "Oh, man, that was awesome! Did you see that, Razer?"

But Razer wasn't listening. His eyes were still riveted to the field, and to the figure of his roommate getting shakily to his knees. One of Phoenix's hands dipped past the grill of his helmet, only to come out darkly stained.

Daxter's excitement dimmed a bit as he realized that Sig was jogging out onto the field, and Jak was even running back to where Phoenix knelt. "Wow, looks like he got clipped pretty good. Hope he's okay… hey, where ya goin'?"

There was no answer; mostly because Razer was no longer beside him. He was knocking past their fellow bleacher-goers in manner most at odds with his usual aloof, polite calm. Daxter was after him in a moment, but by the time the redhead hit the aisle of stairs leading down to solid ground, Razer was already at the bottom and vaulting the waist-high barrier of Plexiglas between bleachers and turf.

"Are you nuts? You can't go down there! Razer!"

If the other had heard, he showed no sign. He reached the bench at almost the same moment Phoenix limped up, arm braced around Jak's shoulders and blood pouring down his helmetless face from under the hand he had clapped over his eye.

"If he says Phoenix ain't his best pal after this, I'm callin' massive bullshit," Daxter muttered to himself as he squeezed, ducked, and weaved in and out of the surging crowd until he could secure a spot on the partition wall as close as he could come to the bench. There he parked, and there he could hear the conversation down on the field even as the noisy rabble in the stands emptied out of the stadium to celebrate their victory. "You doin' okay down there, Mr. Amazing Game-Savin' Tackle Machine?" he yelled.

Jak saw him leaning over the barrier and waved, Phoenix's helmet in hand. The faceguard was bent out of place. "He's okay! Got kicked in the face. Somebody's foot came up just right. Cleat caught him on the eyebrow."

"Well, that's what happens when ya take down three guys at once!" Dax laughed. Good. It looked like Phoenix was going to have a headache for a while, but it also looked like he was going to be fine.

Indeed, even the field medics who had run to the running back's side had cleared out. Instead he was left to collect himself on the bench surrounded by boisterous teammates, an ecstatic coach who seemed to be trying his best to reign in the congratulatory backslaps, and a fussing roommate intent on mopping up the mess. Razer's hand firmly cupped Phoenix's chin, keeping his friend's head tipped back as he pressed a wet cloth to the long cut above his left eye.

"Razer, I'm alright, really!" Phoenix laughed weakly, eyes closed under the thorough care.

The ebony-haired man snorted and didn't lessen his hold. "Pssssh. Of course you are. You only had a cleat go through your faceguard. You're only bleeding all over yourself. Tell me, was winning the game really important enough to warrant you being maimed? I thought you had lost an eye! Hold still."

Daxter grinned as he watched them, catching bits and pieces of their back-and-forth argument. It seemed that Razer was much more attached to Phoenix than he liked to let on, after all.

The stadium emptied fairly quickly. Dax hung around, not knowing what else to do with himself for the moment. There was plenty of tailgating still going on in the parking lot, and the annual Quad Bash would begin within the hour, but the prospect of going alone wasn't all that appealing.

Jak finally escaped from the rest of the team giving him and Phoenix entirely deserved accolades—tired, sweaty, and disheveled, but grinning from ear to ear. He trotted over to the partition. "Hey, Dax! Did you see all that?"

"Uh, duh. How could I not see it? It was all over the view screen!" Still, he reached out to bump fists in victory. "Great job out there, big guy. You were awesome. Great call ta go fer that last play. You won 'em the game!"

"Phoenix won us the game," Jak corrected, glancing back over his shoulder at the two on the bench. "If he hadn't tackled those guys I probably wouldn't have made it. We're a good team."

"That's so touching, I think I'm gonna hurl," Daxter sighed theatrically. "Anyway. What totally awesome plans do you guys have fer afterwards? Bet there's a team party in the works, huh?"

Jak shook his head and smiled, raking a hand through his hair. "No, I don't think so. We were planning to meet up at the Quad Bash after everyone got cleaned up, but Phoenix sure isn't up for it. I think I'll sit it out, too." His ears perked suddenly. "Hey, me and you could go get something to eat. The pizzerias will probably be backed up for hours, but there's that burger place over on University Street. Want to?"

Really, the redhead should have been expecting a stunt like this. So he held off signs of outright amazement. "You sure? I mean, are you really sure? Yer teammates will miss ya. The hot fangirls will miss ya. The drunk, hot fangirls that smuggle booze into the party will miss the hot, manly, heroic stud of a quarterback that just helped win the Homecoming game, Jak! Does that compute?"

"Dax, please. I have zero interest in picking up a girl that isn't Keira." The green-blonde rolled his eyes in obvious exasperation. "After all that, I just want to relax for a while. We can catch a party some other weekend. Unless… uh." His ears began to take on the sad-puppy droop. "You can go on, if you want. You don't need to miss out just because I don't want to go."

"No, no, that ain't it, sheesh! Just thought I'd give ya one last chance ta recover yer marbles. Burgers sound awesome."

"Great! I'm—"

"Wait, wait. Let me guess. You're _starving_."

Jak huffed at the smart, but true, comment. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I'm going to go get out of my gear and shower, and make sure Phoenix doesn't need anything. Meet me out on the front steps in fifteen and we'll go celebrate, okay?"

"That's a plan, big guy. Catch ya in a few."

/ / / / / /

True to his word, Daxter was there at the appointed time. He watched the last of the stragglers leave the stadium, most of them sporting varying levels of intoxication. The redhead watched them wistfully. Damn, it looked like fun to drink. Not that he would know. The last set of foster folks kept the entire ship of almost a dozen kids on a short leash, and he'd had no friends old enough to bum booze from. Ah, well. Colleges were the undisputed breeding grounds of illicit sippin'. Maybe Ximon could hook him up sometime.

Jak came out in short order, hair shower-damp with his duffle bag thrown over one shoulder. "Okay, all set. Razer's going to walk with Phoenix back to the dorm. You ready?"

"You know it, pal. Chili cheese fries, here I come! I think that popcorn actually just made me hungrier."

Avoiding the still-crowded stadium lot, the two made their way down a sidewalk in the opposite direction. It was a cool night, but not cold, perfect for walking in jackets and jeans and sneakers. Apparently they weren't the only ones to think so, either. They had hardly left the shadow of the stadium for the brighter lights of the walkways when they ran into the cheerleaders.

Jak stopped in his tracks so fast that Dax almost ran into him from behind.

"Uh, hello, roadblock!" He glanced around Jak's suddenly motionless form. "Oh, wow. Never mind. I guess we took the scenic route."

Just as in high school, they moved in a pack. A strutting, gorgeous, coifed, perfectly untouchable pack headed by the prettiest and most untouchable one of all. Daxter stepped back almost automatically, knowing full well it was Jak they were honing in on. That didn't mean he couldn't look, however. Heeeyyy, baby!

"Jaaa~k!" The leader of the pack called, waving frantically though it was obvious they had already seen her. The whole giggling group of them stopped in front of the frozen quarterback. "We were wondering where you were! Awesome game! You were great out there tonight."

"Thanks. The cheers were pretty great, too." The smile in Jak's voice was totally fake.

Daxter glanced up at his friend in surprise. Jak had, like, seven total babes practically begging for his attention, but he didn't look happy. Pretty much the opposite. Dax tilted his head in puzzlement. What wasn't there to be happy about, here?

"So, are you going to the party?" The spokes-girl of the squad had already changed out of her deliciously short uniform and into something equally revealing, if casual. Her fake lashes glittered from ten paces as she fluttered them coyly. The blonde highlights in her hair caught the light of the street lamps as she flicked it over her shoulder. "I heard it's gonna be killer. There's a live DJ."

"Uh, yeah, I heard that too. But, uh… I don't think I'm going."

"Huh?" Her ears drooped as an adorable, confused little pout formed on her pink lips. "Why not?"

"Sorry. But I already have plans. Me and my friend are—" Jak looked at the empty spot beside him. No Daxter. Blue eyes widened in something between fear and panic. Then he looked back over his shoulder at the hovering redhead and dragged his very surprised friend to his side with a firm arm around bony shoulders. "We were just now taking off. Already made plans, you know?"

"Aww. Are you sure? We were kind of hoping you'd come hang out with us." She leaned forward juuust so and inhaled just a bit too much. Suddenly, bosoms. Impudently jutting bosoms. Daxter's eyes widened a fraction. "Can't you change your plans? Your friend can come too, if he wants."

Daxter blinked. He did a double take. Say what, now? Did she just say what he thought she just…? Yes. She did say that. Whoa! That sounded like a great idea! That was obviously the best idea ever! Daxter looked up at Jak for confirmation of The Best Idea Ever, the light of joy and miracles shining in his hopeful gaze, but the green-blonde didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Not this time, sorry. Maybe next time! We gotta get going. See you later!"

Daxter was nearly stunned. He put up no fight, letting Jak lead him away. The bigger guy was projecting a sense of obvious relief that would have been better suited to a wildebeest that had just escaped a deadly encounter with an ambushing crocodile. Behind them, Dax clearly heard the girls begin to chatter sadly.

"Wow, the party they're going to must be really, really cool if Jak's going to miss the Quad Bash! Like, VIP only!"

"Totally! Damn it, he is just so awesome! Oooh, I just hate his girlfriend, whoever she is."

Faint giggles trialed off as the girls headed on toward the quad, apparently content with the trying and ready to move on to easier targets.

Daxter waited until they were a good distance away before saying anything. "Sheezus, Jak, what the hell was that? That was like the single most awkward thing I have ever seen you do!"

"Shut up! I don't do vultures, okay?" Jak looked flustered even with the danger past. "Keira was always there to keep them off in high school, but now they're everywhere! I've told the entire cheerleading squad I'm in a long distance relationship and they keep hitting on me anyway." He looked honestly confused by their lack of hint-taking.

"Well, duh. They think a good lookin' guy like you wouldn't mind steppin' off the straight an' narrow for a little hook-up even if he is taken, know what I'm sayin'?" He grinned, slugging Jak playfully on the arm. "But seriously, would it really be so bad ta take one of 'em out? You had fun with Keira, didn't ya? And yer not really dating her, right, so it's cool."

"I had fun with Keira because we were _already_ friends, Dax. It takes a lot for me to get close to people. I'm not interested in one night with some girl I don't even know. And somehow I get the feeling none of those were steady dating material." He shot the redhead a wry grin.

Daxter cackled delightedly. "Did I just hear you indirectly call somebody a skank? I think that's what I just heard there!"

"I demand proof."

"I have proof that you, my friend, are just a big, awkward goofball. I am going to inform your entire team that they have been deceived by a fake jock in their midst. And you could really use some pick-up pointers, Jakkie-boy. Don't worry, though, I got yer totally awkward back… Jak, what're you doin'? No, no, let go! Aaahh! Uncle! Uncle, damn it!"

Jak's casual headlock and knuckles in fiery hair did not impede their progress down the sidewalk. "If you wanted to go with them so bad, you didn't have to stay behind on my account, Mr. Big Shot."

"Yeah, right, an' let you mope off alone? Fake jock or not, yer still a bona fide football hero! Heroes don't celebrate alone!" Even when Jak let him go Daxter couldn't help but snicker as he followed along. "Seriously, though. Heartbreaker, Jak. That's what you are. All those poor ladies bereft of your manly presence. What will they ever do?"

"Oh, please. Like they didn't have a numerical list of the entire team in order of popularity that they're going to try and probably succeed to hook up with at that party. Give them ten minutes and a beer and they won't give me a second thought."

"Denial ain't just a creek in Egypt, Jakkie-boy, but whatever you say."

The witty banter kept up as they walked, past the crush on the quad toward the quieter shopping and dining establishments that bordered the edge of the campus. Try as he might, Daxter couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face. All that awkward anti-jock that kept shining through in Jak made the big lug all the more lovable. Heaven help him, but at that particular moment he wouldn't have left Jak's side for the world. Not even if the world wore a tiny little miniskirt.

- / - / - / - / -

Burgers, fries, and chocolate shakes possessed the uncanny power to soothe a young man's soul. By the time the boys had sufficiently gorged themselves at the well-deserved feast, Jak was once again enveloped in the unique glow that was the aftermath of a winning game. Friday night lights had always had something of a magical effect on him, and the thrill of victory multiplied it tenfold. He and Daxter talked and laughed all through their late dinner, both in high spirits.

On the walk home he texted Keira. She already knew about their Homecoming, and had probably been watching it on TV, but Jak was still adjusting to not getting glomped by her after every game. Text hugs were essential.

"Did she watch it?" Daxter asked, trotting along at his side.

"Yeah, she did. She says I'm damn lucky Phoenix flew to my rescue. Hang on… I'm making her feel incredibly guilty for going to Kras U and leaving me to fend for myself against the cheerleaders."

"Ha! She should totally feel awful. Leaving a poor, innocent kid like you all alone with the big scary girls."

Jak gave Daxter a light shove as text-Keira beeped an answer. "She says—oh, God, you're gonna love this, Dax. She says I obviously need to spread the rumor that I am gay and use my roommate as my fake boyfriend. Problem solved."

Daxter laughed loudly and shoved him in return. "Oh, no. Flattered as I am over the chance to be the quarterback's fake boyfriend, no way am I gonna cross those cheerleaders. If they thought I was all that stood in the way of a smokin' hot Jak encounter the police would find my corpse on the quad with a pompom crammed down my throat." He snickered again, obviously getting a kick out of the idea. "Besides, if you were gay then the rest'a yer own team would be after ya. The showers would never be safe for you again. You'd need a chaperone ta protect yer virtue in there."

"Okay, abandoning this conversation. Thanks a lot, Keira." Jak rolled his eyes and kept on walking.

The trip back to the dorm seemed too short, even though they meandered and took the most roundabout way imaginable. Truth was, even if he wasn't interested in a wild after-party that night, Jak wasn't ready for TV or bed yet. He was still too happy, the lingering buzz of triumph not yet dissipating. The building itself was almost eerily quiet, the usual hum of life snuffed by celebrations going on elsewhere, drawing out the great majority of the residents. By the time they reached their room Jak was on the cusp of proposing a random nighttime drive—he didn't know where to; anywhere, really—when suddenly the problem was solved for him.

Almost before their door had closed, someone was banging on it. "Hey, Jak! Finally. We were starting to think you decided to hit the quad after all."

"Feeling better, Phoenix?" Jak asked sarcastically as he let his teammate in.

Despite the tidy bandages over his eyebrow, Phoenix was grinning. "I never felt bad! Razer, however, seems to think I could drop from a concussion at any moment. So, in lieu of the excellent party we're missing, I asked a little favor of him."

"Oh?"

Razer followed his roommate in somewhat more quietly. He had a heavy backpack slung over one shoulder. "Alright, children, listen up. Rule number one: no throwing up on me. Rule number two: if anyone asks, I am not the one who bought this." With that he unzipped the bag with a flourish. It was full of cans.

"You brought _booze?_" Daxter squealed. He was across the room in seconds, lack of interest firmly abjured. "I didn't know you were legal! This is fer me, too, right? I can have some? Please?"

Jak laughed through his facepalm as Razer hoisted the backpack over Daxter's head. "And you snuck a case of beer past Torn, how?"

"In the backpack, of course. The case would have been far too obvious."

"Let me see that." Reaching over Daxter, who was bouncing and whining like an anxious puppy in his excitement, Phoenix claimed the backpack. "I brought something special, Jak. To really celebrate our win."

"More special than illegal drinking bonanzas in a dry dorm?" Still. Jak came over to see this special thing.

"Much more special. You don't happen to have any soda, do you?" And Phoenix pulled out a bottle of rum.

Razer stared in surprise. "Where did you get that?"

"From Jinx."

"Jinx?" Jak looked up in surprise. "You mean chemistry lab tech Jinx?"

"Yeah, that's him. He's a pretty cool guy, actually. Even if most of his experiments do go wrong. Honestly I don't think he minds too much anymore. The explosions are pretty spectacular. Hey!" Phoenix pulled the bottle out of reach, wagging a disapproving finger at Daxter. "This is not to be had by novices. There's plenty of beer to tide you over."

The redhead pouted a bit mutinously. Jak could almost see his desire to be included at all clashing with his offense at being treated like a kid. "How come? How do you know I never drank before?"

"Because I don't think you want to spend tomorrow morning hurling your vitals up, and it's written all over your overly-eager face."

"Spoil sport," Daxter muttered.

Jak laughed. "Don't worry, Dax, you can try mine. Can you grab some cups?" The thrill of doing something mildly naughty never failed to make little hangouts like this automatically more fun. He pulled open the refrigerator portion of their room's heat-n-keep, which they made sure to keep suitably stocked. "Okay, we've got root beer, cream soda, and Coke. What do you want, you guys?"

Razer wrinkled his nose. "I believe I will stick with your country's piss-poor interpretation of beer, if it's all the same. I shudder to think where that bottle has been if it once passed through Jinx's sooty hands."

With their neighbors snipping back and forth at each other, Daxter eagerly setting up plastic cups, and Killer cussing in his native weasel tongue to be let out of his cage, the room suddenly seemed a much livelier and desirable place to be. Jak grinned as he twisted open the soda bottle. This was obviously what life was all about.

/ / / / / /

"… and now they're gone. Like, all of 'em, just… gone!" Daxter gestured widely with his third beer, nearly empty. "Beats the hell out'a me, I'm tellin' ya."

Phoenix (down two glasses of Captain and Coke, a beer and a half, and several straight shots of spiced goodness) blinked wonderingly. "That's amazing! I've heard of missing socks, but twelve pair in a month is fantastic. The laundry room must be cursed…"

Razer was working through an impressive beer number seven. He looked marginally more mussed than usual, jacket discarded over Jak's desk chair and hair fingered into disarray. "That is ridiculous. If the laundry were cursed we would _all_ be sockless. Obviously it is just Daxter who cannot hold onto his socks."

"Hey, I take good care'a my socks!" Daxter protested indignantly. "I roll 'em up in cute little balls an' everything. I dunno why they won't stay with me. It's kinda sad, really… Is it hot in here, or am I jus' crazy?"

"You're not crazy, you're tipsy." Jak snorted from his bunk, where he had sprawled out to watch the fun.

"Wha? No m'not. I've not drunk hardly anything!"

The quarterback snickered. Daxter's freckled cheeks and ears were indisputably flushed; his blue eyes glassy. There was being new to drinking in general, and there was simply being a natural lightweight. Jak was betting on both. "Whatever you say, Dax."

"Yeah? Well, I say I'm goin' downstairs. It's stuffy in here. You wanna come?"

Jak considered. "Sure. Some cool air might be nice. You guys coming?"

Razer gnawed his lower lip lightly. Cigarette, or more beer? Cigarette, or staying in his comfy spot on the rug? "Perhaps later. I'll stay."

"Have fun, you two." Phoenix swayed slightly as he got his feet under him, but recovered quickly. "I'm after some snacks."

"Snacks in the cabinet," Jak pointed out helpfully as he shrugged into his letter jacket. It would probably be getting chilly outside now, just past midnight.

"Thanks, but I know I left a box of Gushers in my desk. The blue ones. I love the blue ones."

That settled that. Jak followed Daxter out into the hall and to the stairs, where the redhead spent a moment blinking down the dim stairwell before turning tail and choosing the elevator instead. Good choice, Jak thought. Stairs and liquor rarely mixed, unless a toboggan was involved.

Once outside, there was little to do but mill about aimlessly. This was okay with Jak and Daxter. The cool darkness was refreshing after the warm closeness of the room. Daxter rediscovered the low stone wall that bordered the walkway leading up to the main doors of the dorm and wobbled his way on top of it. Though his roommate was literally only a couple feet off the ground, Jak followed along beside him as a spotter. Better safe than calling an ambulance.

"Ain't you tipsy at all?" Daxter asked, arms straight out at his sides for balance.

"A little. I didn't have as much as you guys." Two beers and the half of his rum and Coke that Daxter hadn't begged out of him. "It's cool. I don't really drink to get drunk. Puking all the next day kind of ruins the fun for me."

Daxter giggled, a rarely heard but adorable little sound that made Jak's mouth twitch up into an immediate smile as the redhead rather clumsily sat down on the low wall. His sneakers brushed the concrete path. "Whatever. Should'a expected as much from the fake jock. I kinda like it, though. The drinkin' thing. Feels good."

"Feels good until you wake up with a headache. But yeah. It is kind of fun, isn't it?" Jak sat down on the wall next to his friend and sighed happily. He could see the lights of the stadium away up over the trees, burning brightly until maintenance finished cleaning up all the abandoned cups and bottles and popcorn bags. The air smelled like falling leaves and damp, green turf.

"Today was a good day, huh?" Daxter said, voicing in his thoughts for him. "You won yer game, an' we won the race."

Jak poked him playfully in the side. "You mean _you_ won the race. Give yourself a little more credit, here."

"Whaaaaat." Daxter smacked at his hand halfheartedly. "I still can't believe we won 'cause of me. It's a weird thought, y'know?"

"What's so weird about it? I told you you'd be great."

"That's what I'm talkin' about." Thin shoulders shrugged. "I guess I'm not used ta hearin' stuff like that. It's weird. Nobody ever cared how well I did before. Nobody ever really encouraged me or anything. After a while I just kinda… quit tryin'. Nobody expected me ta do good, so I didn't."

With a start, Jak realized what was happening. He was suddenly dealing with a decently inebriated, much less guarded redhead, and they were on the brink of a Deep Personal Conversation. While the stereotypically manly part of him inwardly screamed in agony and shielded its face, Jak was made of sterner stuff. He reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder with the bare minimum of awkwardness. "Yeah. It's cool."

Very smooth, Jak. Congratulations.

Daxter huffed. "Better knock it off or I'm gonna get used to it. Might do somethin' stupid like try harder all'a time so I can keep hearin' all that awesome fake-jock praise from ya."

"Now you're just being sarcastic. Watch yourself. Tipsy or not, if you keep insulting my hard-earned social status I'll tackle your skinny ass off that wall and into the mulch. You'll be spitting out marigolds for days."

"Oooooh, fake-jock is mad! I'm so scared!" With another burst of smothered giggles, Daxter fell sideways and sprawled up against Jak's side.

Before Jak's brain could catch up with his body, he was reaching out. His arm wrapped around Daxter's ribs and pulled him closer. Maybe he had been a little more affected by the beer than he had assumed. Maybe it was his total and complete lack of casual human contact for the past month and a half finally catching up with him. Whatever it was, having that squirmy, giggly presence at his side pleased Jak to no end. And, for whatever reason of his own, Daxter didn't struggle. Maybe he had been missing casual human contact for a lot longer than Jak had. The green-blonde couldn't dig too deeply into that thought, though, because a second later Daxter jumped.

"Whoa! What happened ta the lights?"

"Hmm?" Jak looked up at the suddenly darker sky. "Oh, the floodlights at the stadium went off. They must be done cleaning up."

"Wooooow." Daxter craned his neck and looked up, bending backward so far in the process that he would have fallen off their perch without Jak's steadying arm around him. "Hey, Jak, look up! It's like the planetarium from third grade!"

Jak nodded in agreement and looked up too, though not quite so far. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light more and more stars could be seen. "You should see the sky around my house. It's even better than this."

"Everyplace in the world has the same number'a stars, showoff."

"I know that. But you can see a lot more of them at my place than you can here. Uncle and I live in the middle of nowhere. Woods and fields and farms all around us. Town is miles away. There's no light pollution. Sometimes it's like you can see every star in the whole universe."

"Huh. Sounds… nice," Daxter conceded.

Jak nodded and kept his eyes skyward. The breeze was cool, hinting heavily at the threshold of autumn, but Dax was warm against his side. For lack of reason to move, he kept his arm right where it was, draped across the redhead's shoulders. They sat that way for several minutes while Jak slipped off into his own little world of Zen. It really had been an entirely excellent day.

Before long, though, the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something wormed in. Now, what could he have possibly…?

"Dax, we left Phoenix and Razer in our room. Come on, let's get back before they think we fell in the pond and drowned." Jak gave his roommate a little nudge. "Dax?" Another nudge, slightly more firm. "Dax, come on." Nothing. "Are you seriously asleep?"

From how heavily the redhead was leaned against him, head pillowed against Jak's shoulder, it was safe to say that he was. He nuzzled into Jak's jacket with a dissatisfied murmur when Jak tried to lean away.

Jak choked down a laugh. That was just goddamn adorable. No boy over the age of seven should be allowed to reach that level of cute. He stood up slowly, one hand still planted on Daxter's shoulder to keep him from pitching over. "Come on, Dax. We're heading in. You'll sleep a lot better in your bed."

"Go 'way!" Dax finally whined, indeed sounding very much like a sleepy seven-year-old. "M'tired! Don' wanna walk right now, jeez."

Bemused, Jak considered his options. Sure, he could just shake the sobriety back into his friend. He could leave him out here sans companionable body heat until the cold snapped him awake again. Or… he could just do this the easy way and be spared a whole lot of whining. "Okay. Guess I'll carry you, then."

"Huh?" Daxter blinked up at him blearily, ears tilted at an insidiously cute angle. He raised a hand to brush at his face and the over-long sleeve of his hoodie covered his fingers to the knuckles. "Fer real?"

"I picked you up this afternoon, didn't I?" When it seemed like the other might hurt himself trying to remember back that far, Jak rolled his eyes and crouched down. "Come on. Get on."

Daxter laughed, and did. He wrapped his arms around Jak's neck and stepped off the wall, and off they went back to the dorm, Jak grabbing his legs behind the knees to keep him comfortably seated. "Damn, big guy, yer strong! S'like yer not even tryin'!"

"I'm not. You hardly weigh anything." Under normal circumstances he would have gotten a glower and the cold shoulder for insinuating that the redhead was small. Under normal circumstances Dax never would have consented to being given a piggyback ride, either. "For the record, I think a job at Pizza Haven would be good for you. Get some meat on your scrawny bones."

"So mean, Jak. So mean."

Back inside, Jak realized that he didn't have his keys. Neither did Daxter. The elevator couldn't be used from the lobby without a keycard swipe. Grumbling under his breath at his own stupidity, the green-blonde took the stairs. It was more difficult than usual with a clinging passenger, sure, but he was the quarterback, damn it. He managed.

On the stairs between floors two and three Daxter perked up. "Heeey, Jakkie-boy. This is where me an' you met, ain't it? You remember that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I don't think I'll ever forget that, actually."

"Kinda funny lookin' back on it, ain't it?" The redhead sighed, his warm breath ruffling a lock of hair right behind Jak's ear in a way that made an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine. "I'm glad I met ya, Jak."

Jak smiled softly. "Me, too. Even if you are making me carry you up the stairs."

Luckily for both of them, Phoenix and Razer were still in the room to open the door for them when they arrived back. Unluckily for Phoenix and Razer, they had a small problem of their own.

"I said I'm sorry!" Phoenix cried, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I've said it a hundred times in the past twenty minutes! I'm not sure what else you want from me."

Razer looked more ruffled than ever. "I'd have liked for you to not forget your damn keys whilst on your idiotic Gushers run and lock us out of our damned room! Mien Gott, I didn't realize you were _that_ drunk!"

"I guess forgetting keys is a common part of drinking in the dorms," Jak laughed weakly. He let Daxter slide gently off his back. Said redhead, once freed, wobbled in place for a moment before falling back to sit on Jak's bunk with a little squeak of cheap box springs. "Looks like you two are spending the night here, then."

"I really must decline," Razer said flatly.

Phoenix scoffed lightly. "And what will you do in that case? Sleep on the lounge sofa? With the buildup of random DNA all over those cushions, I wouldn't suggest it."

"Well, why did you suggest it, then?" Razer looked slightly ill.

"Torn has a master key to every lock in this hall," Jak remembered. "You could always go wake him up."

The normally suave exchange student groaned into his hands and brushed halfheartedly at the ferret on the floor beside him, licking off the rim of a nearly empty can. "No, I can't, because if I do there is no chance whatsoever of him not realizing that something is going on in here. He's like a damn fox hound. I am not going to be stuck with three counts of aiding and abetting minors."

"So you're sleeping over," Jak grinned wryly. "Don't worry about it. Stay the night here and in the morning we'll clean up the cans, spray some Febreez, and no one will have any idea we were drinking. You can just explain to Torn how you dropped your keys at the game last night. Phoenix left his in his football locker at the stadium. He'll let you in. Problem solved."

An onyx eyebrow rose. "You're far too quick with that alibi, boy."

"When you grow up in the boonies with nothing to do but help your crazy genius mechanic of a best friend put homemade nitro boosters on the Farmer's tractor, you get good at making up stories on the fly." Standing on his toes, Jak pulled down the spare blanket he kept folded on top of his wardrobe. "Here. You guys will have to share, but it's a queen size, not a twin. I think you'll be fine."

Razer looked down at the blanket he had been handed. At the relatively large and decently cush rug. At Phoenix, who was staring right back at him. He blanched under his slight beer-flush. "Oh, bloody hell."

"Well, I'm overjoyed to be sleeping with you, too, darling." Phoenix pulled the band out of his hair unconcernedly, finger combing through the dark strands as he turned to Jak. "Since Daxter is sleeping in your bed, can we have his pillows?"

"What? Daxter isn't sleeping…" Jak glanced over at his bunk, and the oblivious redhead draped across it. He had weaseled out of his hoodie and balled it up under his head for a pillow. He was undeniably asleep. "… yeah, you can have his pillows." There was no way Daxter would be getting up the ladder to the top bunk any time soon, even if Jak woke him up to do it. Jak didn't particularly feel like using the top bunk himself, either. They could deal with being cramped for just one night, he decided.

"Do not touch me," Razer growled as he and Phoenix settled in on the rug. "Not with your elbow. Not with your toe. This is all your fault."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Phoenix simpered with a stupid grin before he rolled over and pulled the blanket up with a contented snicker.

Jak sighed as he kicked off his shoes and tugged off his shirt. "Cool it, you guys. Just consider this the slumber party we never had because we never knew each other as kids."

"Making up for lost time, then?" Phoenix asked, already sounding drowsy.

"Something like that." Down to his boxers, the green-blonde made one last sweep of the room. He caught Killer and returned him to his cage, then snapped off the light. Enough of a glow came up through the window from the lampposts down on the sidewalk outside that he could dimly see as he crawled carefully over Daxter and settled into the narrow spot between redhead and wall. At his movement Daxter shifted and made a small noise, but didn't wake up. Jak snorted softly in amused contentment. "Goodnight, guys."

Given the excitement of the day with an added chaser of booze, sleep came hard and fast. Past a fleeting gratefulness that he didn't have to set his alarm for the next morning, Jak's mind was blissfully blank. He was warm and comfortable and his best friend was beside him. A winner of a day, indeed.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	6. Chapter 6

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ / / / / /

Daxter woke with a dry mouth, a fuzzy head, and a very warm right side. He blinked groggily at the ceiling, rolling his tongue around his mouth clumsily. Oooh, man. Dry mouth. Too hot. Muzzy brain. He had to be getting sick. There was even something wrong with his eyes, because through them the ceiling didn't even look right. There were funny lines on it, and—

That was totally not the ceiling.

That was the slatted bottom of a bunk and he was seeing it, and that meant that he was under and not over, and that meant that the big warm lump he was half laying on was… Daxter glanced over a little too quickly, stomach clenching in protest. Sure enough, he spied a tousled tangle of emerald-golden hair and a long ear lax in sleep. Yeah, he should probably get out of the bed he had no memory of crashing in. He should also probably stop groping his roommate's ass.

The redhead pulled his hand back like it had been resting on a hot plate and sat up quicker than his body approved of, for his stomach clenched again in warning and his dizzy head spun. So not even cool. He wondered if he got out now, would Jak remember that he had been there. Would Jak even care? They had all been drinking, after all. Surely the bad social consequences of being caught in bed with another guy would be given a little slack if there was liquor involved, right?

Daxter got unsteadily to his feet and wobbled away from the bunk. Water. Water water water for his horribly dry mouth. There was bottled water in the mini fridge. On the way over, his shuffling feet caught the corner of the blanket draped over Phoenix and Razer, pulling it down their sleeping forms. So they had decided to stay after all, huh. The argument over it was the last thing Dax remembered hearing before passing out. He fished a water out of the fridge and grinned as he twisted off the cap, looking back to the pair on the rug. Then he froze, the bottle barely touching his lips.

Phoenix had an arm around Razer's waist. His hand was under Razer's shirt, petting slowly and unconsciously over defined abs. Still soundly asleep, Razer was limp and relaxed, a small smile playing over his usually scowling lips.

Oh.

Oh, God.

This was absolutely perfect. This was priceless! Daxter held in a laugh by the barest thread and tiptoed around the rug until he reached his desk. He had to have a picture. This was going to be the new background on the lounge computer.

Cell phone in hand, photographic evidence of spooning secured, Daxter sat back in his desk chair and congratulated himself on his luck. Like catching a glimpse of an albino killer whale or something, the sight he had just seen was a precious, precious gift. From the floor beside him, Killer rattled his water bottle.

"You saw nothing, my small, slinky accomplice," Dax murmured sagely with a languid wave of his hand.

Well. Now that was out of the way, it was time to get down the brass tacks. It was almost nine o'clock. If he pushed it, he could get across campus to the math department building and collect his graded exam from yesterday before the prof bugged out for the weekend. He hadn't planned on picking it up early, but what the hell? He was already awake, and with barely a headache to show for his first brush with the world of cool kids and booze. No sense in waiting until Monday to find out how badly he had failed. The sooner he knew what abysmal grade he had earned, the sooner the unknown would quit hovering over his head and let him get back to important things like timeless tomfoolery and mass malarkey with his favorite fake jock.

Quickly and quietly as he could, Daxter dug up a fresh shirt, privately surprised at himself. He really had been drunk last night if he'd taken off his shirt in front of Phoenix and Razer and fallen asleep in nothing but holey jeans and a ratty tank top. He was only very recently getting comfortable with letting Jak get a casual glimpse of freckled shoulders, now that his esteemed roommate knew the story behind their mini map of scars. He still didn't care for the vulnerable feeling.

Ready to go with the finding of his sneakers, Dax pulled back the curtain and peered out the window, over the lawn. A heavy mist still clung over the grass and sidewalks. "It's so foggy…" he mused quietly. Yeah, fall was definitely coming. With a sigh, he turned away from the window.

A jacket hit him square in the face.

"Take it," Jak mumbled, arm already back over his eyes as he rolled over in his bunk nest. "If it's foggy, it's wet and cold."

Daxter peeled the fabric off his chest and glanced down. It was Jak's letter jacket. "Uh… you sure?"

Jak waved a hand impatiently. His head was already under a pillow. Apparently, he was sure.

"Oh. Okay. I'll bring it right back. I mean, I'll be right back, too. Uh, just in case ya, y'know, might miss me or somethin'…" Dax slipped into the jacket awkwardly. It was at least two sizes too big. His hands were lost in the pockets as he stuffed in his phone and keys. He stepped carefully around the two sleeping on the rug and snuck out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Once out of the room, he stopped and stared. His hand was still on the doorknob. The long sleeve of Jak's jacket bunched up around his wrist.

He was standing in the hallway wearing the quarterback's letter jacket.

Jak wanted him to wear his letter jacket. Jak cared that he might get cold or damp or what the hell ever.

"Such. A. Dork!" Daxter laughed out loud. But he laughed it through a furious blush. In a moment of insanity he gathered the corners of the jacket collar together and nuzzled his face into the soft fabric. The smell of success, the smell of popularity, the smell of physical battles bravely fought, hard won, and justly rewarded… was the smell of Jak's cologne.

He finally turned and all but bolted down the hallway, giggling like an idiot the whole way. Of all the fangirls on campus who would kill for the chance to wear this particular article of clothing, in some colossal twist of cosmic irony he was the one who got it—no begging, pleading, or swooning required. In your face, cheer squad.

The sudden warmth in his gut had nothing to do with the jacket wrapped around him like a friendly arm on a cool night.

- / - / - / - / -

After Daxter left, Jak was almost able to fall back to sleep. Almost being the keyword. Before he could properly drift off, though, a German bomb detonated on the floor next to his bunk.

The green-blonde jerked in shock as Razer cursed loudly and stumbled to his feet like a man waking up in a nest of fire ants. Jak looked up with a curse of his own on his lips, but Razer was already at the door—out the door—into the hall without so much as a good morning, door slamming behind him.

"Lunatic," Jak muttered blearily.

On the floor Phoenix groaned and rolled over, limbs akimbo, normally neatly tied hair wild, then was still. The drama department could have used him as an entirely convincing prop corpse.

Jak sighed. He would take that as a massive hint that his Saturday morning sleep-in was officially over. He stretched hard, groaning deeply himself as his muscles protested. The morning after a game was usually a bit tender. A hot shower would do him good.

First thing was first, though. Jak threw on his clothes and began to collect empty cans and cups. The entire pile fit neatly in a small trash bag. He tucked the half-empty bottle of rum into the backpack that Razer would probably be coming back for.

"Rise and shine, Phoenix." He nudged his teammate with his foot as he crossed the room. "Razer's probably getting Torn to break into your room right now. Might want to start not looking hung over."

"Uuuuugh," Phoenix moaned eloquently into a pillow.

Leaving his friend to work at rejoining the world of the living, Jak cautiously made his way down the hall to the 3W utility room. Against the far wall were two chutes to the basement: trash and recycling. Jak dropped the bag into the recycling chute and closed it resolutely. Evidence: disposed of. Unless Torn detoured to the basement, dug through the garbage, and dusted the beer cans for fingerprints, no one could prove who in the dorm said cans had belonged to. The perfect crime. Jak was pleased with himself, all the more so when he ran into Torn in the hall a minute later.

"Morning, Torn," he said pleasantly.

"Yes. Yes, it is morning. You'd think that morning—Saturday morning, no less—would be a good time to relax. Hah. I should have thrown away that hope the moment I signed on as an RA."

"Rough wake-up?" Jak asked, trying to hide a grin.

"If by rough you mean I got fussed at in German for ten minutes while I let that chain-smoking background character from _Grease_ into his room after he lost his own damn keys, you'd be right." Torn snorted, tattooed ears laid back in annoyance as he beckoned Jak to follow him back to his private room. "Hey, come with me a second. I've got something for you. But, no. Razer's just damn lucky I was already awake. A bunch of teenybopper Freshman girls decided to have a gossip session directly outside my door at quarter after seven."

"Lucky you."

"I almost sent them to your room," Torn growled. "Since it was you they were talking about."

Jak's ears perked. "Oh, really?"

"Believe it, sweet cheeks. You're the hot topic of the day. Word on the street is you _so totally_ gave Brittany Mayes of head cheerleader fame the brush-off last night so you could, like, hit another party with that redheaded kid."

"You're way too good with the Valley Girl accent," Jak grinned as they reached Torn's carefully guarded lair. "You know, if Valley Girls smoked ten packs a day."

"Shut up, smart ass. You realize 'that redheaded kid' almost ran me over a little bit ago when he ran out of here in your _letter jacket?_ You two better cool it with the outward displays of bromance or the rumor mill will have the whole campus believing you're fuck buddies inside of three days."

Jak instinctively balked. "What? No! My God, are you serious?"

"I am serious like a bad case of herpes, kid. I realize you came here from the middle of godforsaken nowhere and you have the social skills of an introverted third grader, but come on. It's obvious."

"Torn. I can't believe I'm using this word, but—dude! What's obvious here is that I enrolled in a college full of perverts. Can't a guy have a best friend without people making it sound like I'm raping him behind the bleachers or something?" Jak shook his head in a mixture of amazement and frustration. "We're both completely straight!"

"Uh-huh. A likely story."

Funny, that, how Keira had suggested that Daxter be his likely story only the evening before. He had laughed about it last night, but now… The green-blonde twitched an ear dismissively. "You know what, whatever. As long as people don't start talking and freak Dax out. He'd probably fly off the handle and run away and I'd never see him again." And if he lost his first really close friend since meeting Keira in preschool over some morons who couldn't keep their mouths shut he would have to fly off his own handle and crack heads.

"Protecting him too, now, huh?" Torn grinned smarmily.

"Damn straight," Jak deadpanned. "He needs watched out for. Anybody messes with Dax they mess with me, and if they mess with me they're messing with Phoenix, and if they mess with us they're messing with the whole football team. Pretty stupid."

"Conceded."

"Alright. Now that we've established that, what was it you wanted to give me?"

"Besides my sage advice, you mean?" The dreadlocked RA grabbed a piece of paper out of the printer tray on his desk and handed it to Jak. "I thought you might want a copy of this in color. It's all over the front page of the campus paper, but newsprint isn't the greatest archival material."

Jak accepted the offering. It was a glossy sheet of photo paper. "Wait, what?" It was the post-race picture from the day before. Phoenix looking brash, Razer looking bored, Daxter laughing from Jak's shoulders. "This is in the paper?"

"On the front page, right below an action shot of you and Phoenix being stereotypical athletic stars." Torn had taken on the contented air of a lion that had taken down a full grown ostrich. "I called in a favor from a friend of mine—head of senior editorial staff at the Haven Star. I cooked up some warm and fuzzy point about Homecoming Weekend being about fun and teamwork and all that happy bullshit, and he put in the shot."

Jak stared at the photo. "I bet Ashelin's pissed."

"Of course she's pissed! Why do you think I went out of my way to do it?"

"Wow. You're kind of an ass."

"You're kind of a smart mouthed kid. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pay a little visit over to 3E and make sure my good buddy Ashelin has seen the paper."

The quarterback very prudently took the opportunity to retreat back to his own room. Whatever Ashelin's reaction, it wouldn't be pretty.

When he got back, Phoenix was gone. So was the box of Gushers. The spare blanket had been neatly folded and stowed, and Daxter's pillows were back on his bunk. All remaining evidence of their little party had been wiped away with an adept hand. Phoenix was obviously a pro. Now all Jak needed was a nice, hot shower to loosen up his muscles and make sure his hair didn't smell like beer, and—

On his desk, his phone buzzed.

_/Oh, Jaaak. I have something to shooow yooou/_

The text was from Dax. Jak blinked at it for a moment before texting back. _/Cool. Meet on patio? Next to fountain. Need coffee!/_

_/There in 5/_

So. A shower could wait twenty minutes. Jak swapped his phone for his keys and headed out. Hopefully there would still be some premium roast left down in the cafeteria.

- / - / - / - / -

At that particular moment, Daxter had a song in his heart and a piece of paper emblazoned with the school seal clutched tight in his hand.

It took excessive willpower to refrain from skipping down the sidewalk. Of course the victory dance he had executed in the hall outside the math department office would want to follow him out into such an excellent day. The cool, fresh air, the shining dew on the grass, the warm sun on his face—everything was gorgeous and beautiful and wonderful! And there up ahead, waiting to make an already spectacular day better, his roommate was waiting for him.

Jak was waiting by the fountain, just as he had suggested. Daxter could see him in profile, standing in a lazy slouch with a coffee in one hand. The redhead grinned and began to walk faster. He carefully slipped out of the borrowed jacket and draped it over his arm. It was shaping up to be a warm day, so Jak could take his nice jacket back now.

Oh, man, he just couldn't wait to tell his friend the news!

Jak turned, oblivious to Daxter's approach, and waved to someone across the sea of patio tables and chairs.

It proved to be too good an opportunity to pass up. Something playful, born of his good mood, seized hold in Daxter's brain. He broke into a jog, then a slow run.

Dax realized his mistake too late. The very detail that had prompted his sneak attack was their literal downfall: _Jak never saw him coming_. Jak never saw him coming, and when the unexpected weight of an airborne redhead connected with him, thin arms and legs wrapping playfully around his shoulders and waist like a koala, he wasn't ready for it. Unaware, un-braced, Jak let out a startled shout as he staggered and tripped sideways.

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—_ran through Daxter's mind in an unbroken string. He clung tighter to Jak on pure reflex, biting off a panicked squawk of his own. The jacket slipped off his arm and landed in a heap. Jak's coffee cup hit the concrete. The back of Jak's calves hit the edge of the fountain. Then they both hit the water.

This time Daxter did scream, a high, shrill mess that ripped itself out of his throat as the frigid water enveloped his torso. Jak's bellow of shock joined it for the split second before the quarterback's head went under.

_Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. _Daxter scrambled to get his hands and knees under him, narrowly missing full submersion himself.

The fountain was shallow, barely two feet deep. Jak popped back up in an instant, spitting out chlorinated water between gasping breaths as he flailed to get off his back. "Holy _shit_ that's _cold!_" He shook the matted hair out of his eyes and looked up. "…Dax?"

Daxter's body felt disconnected from his brain. All he could do was sit and stare at Jak with huge eyes. He had just tackled his roommate into the fountain. Jak was wet and cold and staring at him. Everybody was staring at them. Jak was going to _murder _him for this. Slowly his ears went back and down, down, down.

Jak pushed himself into a sitting position and frowned, his own ears flitting back. "Dax—?"

"I'm sorry! Jesus, Jak, I'm soooo so so sorry, it was an accident, please don't be mad, I'll do anything I'll clean our whole room you can have my money if I get this job I'll suck your cock just please don't be mad and please still be my friend—!"

Jak surged to his feet in one smooth motion, water pouring down his muscled body. He was suddenly much, much taller than the redhead still cowering at the concrete bottom of the fountain. For the first time in weeks Daxter felt a short, sharp spike of fear lance through his gut. He flinched as Jak leaned down and…

…grabbed him under the arms, scooping him to his feet.

"My God, you look so pathetic!" Jak laughed helplessly, shaking his head. His hands were huge and warm on thin, shaking shoulders. "That was too perfect, Dax."

Daxter stared up at him stupidly, mouth hanging open. "Wha…?"

"That proves it. I am officially rooming with the craziest guy on campus. Even your accidents are hysterical. You couldn't have pulled that off any better if you were actually trying to do it."

"Y-you're not… mad?" Completely baffled. That was all Daxter could be when Jak nudged him, a firm palm on his back prompting him to climb-step unsteadily out of the water. How could Jak not be furious? He glanced around, ears still lower than low, sneakers squelching with every stumbling step. Half the damn patio had seen that colossal fuck up!

Jak shook like a dog, sparkling cold water droplets sprinkling the sun-warmed rock at his feet. He seemed all but oblivious to the not-so-subtle laughter and attention they were garnering from every corner of the eating area. "Why would I be mad? You were just fooling around."

"I was just bein' a fucking idiot," Daxter pouted, wrapping his arms around his own chest. Damn, it was freezing! Struck by another mini bolt of panic, he glanced around until he caught sight of Jak's letter jacket. At least he had been lucky enough to drop it before taking them both for an early swim. There was no way he could afford to replace it if it got ruined—could such a thing even be replaced?—nor could he afford another cell phone if it had been in his jeans and not in the jacket pocket.

"You're not an idiot. You were happy and you have something to show me."

"Show…?" The redhead blinked. "Oh! Oh, yeah, I, I did. It's… it's no big deal."

Jak quirked a perfect brow and gave him an exasperated look.

"Okay, okay! Gimme a damn second! Couldn't let it wait until we get back an' dry off, crazy fake jock." Blustering up his last reserves of bravado, Daxter looked around anxiously for the paper he had so coveted just minutes before. Ah-ha. There it was, happily floating in the fountain. He gingerly fished it out by the corners, letting it drip before silently holding it up for Jak to see.

Jak's eyes roamed it, then blinked. "Whoa! Eighty-six percent? That's almost a B+! Way to go, Dax." He grinned knowingly. "See? I told you you'd be fine."

Praise. Cold. Wet. Praise. Huge fuck-up. Smiles. Praise. Does not compute. Daxter shook his head hard. "Yep, you sure did, big guy. So totally did. Now how 'bout ya tell me ta collect my shit that just flew off the handle so we can go home an' change clothes, huh?"

"Daxter." Jak put on his best poker face. "Collect your shit that just flew off the handle so we can go home and change clothes."

And they did. Daxter brushed Jak's jacket off carefully as they squished their drippy way back inside the building. "Here's this back. Sorry I dropped it."

Jak accepted it, only to shake it out and flip it firmly around his roommate's shoulders. "Yeah, no problem. I let you take it so you wouldn't be cold. Sorry, Dax. The Universe has decreed that you are to be cold this morning. I tried my best, but Fate shut me down." He put an exaggerated arm around the redhead, shaking his head in mock sadness.

It was enough to coax out the smallest of chuckles. "I think you better reevaluate who got stuck with the crazy roommate, here. That was a bona fide Dax-man line, big guy. I think—and this is very scary, you might wanna find yer security blanket fer this one—I think I might be rubbin' off on you."

"Heaven forbid." And Jak laughed.

One longest, coldest walk back to their room ever, Daxter was shivering to beat the maracas in the band. As soon as they hit the door he and Jak went straight to their respective wardrobes.

"What, one bath this mornin' wasn't enough?" the redhead quipped through chattering teeth when he saw Jak grab a towel alongside his dry clothes.

Jak snorted. "I think I'll go with the hot option this time. The one with the soap." He peeled off his soaking shirt and dropped it in the laundry basket with a wet plop. "And then I guess I'll do laundry."

Daxter looked quickly away, flushing slightly, as Jak finished stripping. He still wasn't used to that. But he couldn't deny that a hot shower right now would feel fantastic. Just maybe… After a moment's deliberation he pulled down another towel.

Jak tied his own towel and gave him a curious look.

"What? I'm gonna come shower with ya." Daxter turned bright red the second the words escaped his mouth. "I mean, uh, I'm gonna walk down there with ya and, uh, also take a shower—y'know, in a totally separate space from you." Holy hell, could he make this any more awkward? Jak was biting his lip not to laugh. "Ah, shut up! You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know." Jak grinned that stupid jock grin of his that strangely didn't piss Daxter off like it did when other jocks wore it. "And I'm glad you're finally getting cool with the showers."

"Yeah, well. I figure it'd be dumb ta worry much with a big lug like you around as my own personal bouncer."

"Oh? Jeez, Dax, if that's all I am to you, I'm thoroughly hurt and emotionally scarred."

"I'm just sure you are. You'll be down at the counseling center with yer teddy bear cryin' on the therapy couch fer the rest'a the year."

"I am going to the showers now," Jak said loudly, waving his hand at Daxter dismissively. "Goodbye."

"No, no, wait fer me. I'm comin'." Grabbing his basket of shower accessories, Daxter pattered along behind his friend. He was definitely nervous to be showering in the middle of the morning for the first time since moving into the dorms, but he hadn't been lying. He did feel safer with Jak.

"Okay, so. Shower, then laundry, then food. Hey, we can go get some pizza and you can turn in your application while we're down there."

"Sounds like a plan, big guy."

"Great. I think it'll be really cool if you get a job at Pizza Haven."

"So we can hang out with Ximon without havin' ta order somethin'?"

"No, so we'll get free pizza. I'm starving."

"Jaaak!"

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	7. Chapter 7

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

"Black, huh?" Daxter regarded his new Pizza Haven uniform shirt with a critical eye as they walked back toward the campus proper. "Not bad. Could'a been Day-Glo yellow or somethin' really foul like that."

Jak nodded very seriously. "Totally. Black is definitely cool. Always in style, covers pizza sauce and bloodstains."

The redhead smirked, registered the fact that his front teeth had to be showing, and made the decision not to care. It was Good Mood Time now. "So I'm not the only one who got the feelin' that babe was gonna murder Ximon three seconds before we walked in the door?"

"Pizza slicer to the neck seems like a fair punishment for stopping at the bong store on the way back from a seven minute delivery and then blaming your GPS for getting you lost."

"Yeah. Remind me not ta piss the boss lady off when she's already two pepperonis from a nervous breakdown."

The application process had gone without a hitch—mostly it consisted of Taryn snatching the paper from him and throwing the shirt at his head. Turns out she had remembered them after all. He was to report to the restaurant ASAP after class on Monday to hash out schedules and fill out what little paperwork was to be had.

"Is gettin' a job always that easy? I always thought it'd be kinda… less spastic. Maybe have a little interview, brag on yerself a little bit, not have ta duck flyin' breadsticks."

"I've never had a real job," Jak said honestly, "just odd stuff like chasing cows for the farmer down the road and helping out the crazy bird lady next door while I was in high school, but I can safely say you just had a very unique hiring experience."

"Well, Jakkie-boy, that's what happens when yer as awesome as me." Daxter snickered as his friend rolled his eyes. "So, what do we wanna do now? We got one weekend ta have as much fun as humanly possible before my shiny new job starts eatin' all the time we would'a spent bein' morons together after you get out'a practice."

"Aww, don't say it like that. We'll find time to hang out. We'll make time." Jak looked studiously at the cracks in the sidewalk as they approached the dorm. Suddenly his head and ears shot up. "Hey, I know! Let's play catch!"

Daxter quirked a red brow. "Come again?"

"Let's play catch, Dax! It's a great day. This weather won't last much longer, you know?" The quarterback nudged the redhead in his excitement. "I doubt Phoenix feels well enough to play through that hangover, but me and you can. Come on, let's go upstairs. You drop off your shirt, I'll grab my ball, and we'll—"

Daxter instinctively balked. "Whoa there, big fella, yer inner jock is showin'. I've never caught a football in my life an' you wanna be seen playin' catch with me? In public? Where people could, like… look?"

"Sure, why not? Everybody has a first time."

"I can't catch diddly, Jak! Remember that damn cup on the patio? Bad juju, Jak, very bad!"

"Come on, Dax, it won't be that bad." Jak chuckled as the automatic doors swished open and ushered them into the dorm lobby. "The worst you could do is get better at catching. Or maybe you want to run around crashing into people for the rest of your life, I don't know."

"Hey!" Daxter huffed. "Bad location is all that was. I'm not a total klutz."

"Okay then, we'll go out back by the woods. Nobody to run into. Probably not a lot of people to see you. I'll teach you. It'll be fun."

The redhead bit his lip and wavered. He could think of half a dozen more fun things to do right off the top of his head and twice as many reasons why they should leave contact sports off the list. But damned if Jak wasn't giving him that hopeful puppy face. "… yer gonna be gentle when ya toss that ball at my head, right? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I seriously can't afford a trip ta the ER right now."

"I promise I will only throw as hard as you want me to. Don't worry, Dax, this'll be fun."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's do this thing, then." Though privately Daxter still had his completely legitimate doubts, Jak's grin made what was sure to be an upcoming embarrassment very close to worth it.

- / - / - / - / -

Despite appearances, Jak could be exceptionally gentle when he wanted to be. And he wanted to be gentle when he was throwing footballs at someone who was not only not on the football team, but was smaller than him. The green-blonde had played a casual game of catch with Keira many times and never left so much as a bruise on her delicate female skin—that was what her own wrenches and hammers were for.

"You're doing great, Dax! Now back up a little."

"Yeah, okay," and it was obvious that Daxter was getting his confidence up after just a few minutes.

Jak grinned, took careful aim, and threw with roughly a quarter of his on-the-field force. He knew how to put a ball where he wanted it to go, and he wanted it to go straight into Daxter's arms with a minimum of effort on the redhead's part.

Daxter caught it easily.

"Perfect!" Jak praised as the ball was tossed back. "Now try backing up a few steps every time I throw." A good way to get a little more distance between them without getting too far for an untrained arm to bridge the gap. This wasn't about showing his friend up.

The next few throws back and forth went flawlessly. Daxter backed up, further and further, Jak adjusting his trajectory and force accordingly. Jak began to throw the ball a bit to the side, a bit overhead, letting Daxter put some thought into grabbing it. All was well until Jak miscalculated by bare inches how high his roommate could reach.

"Hey!" The redhead went up on his toes, grasping futilely for the ball as it sailed past over his head. With one bounce on the grass behind him, it flipped back into the air and disappeared down the hill at the edge of the open lawn.

Jak facepalmed. "Damn it, sorry! I'll get it."

"No, it's cool, I got it." Dax looked back to wave him off, already jogging toward the edge of the small ravine. "Just wai—aah!"

"Look where you're going!" Jak yelled, but it was already much too late.

Daxter tripped, flailed forward with a yelp, and vanished from sight.

"Oh, shit." The quarterback ran after him, laughing despite himself.

Dax wouldn't be hurt; he could count on that at least. The hill down to the creek that lay at the bottom of the little gully wasn't so steep that he would plummet rather than tumble, and it was cushioned with the same deep green grass that covered the dorm lawn. Tall trees overshadowed the creek bed, allowed to grow down the hill to meet the edge of the wild wooded area beyond while the level expanse of the back lawn above was kept open and clear.

Jak hit the edge of the downgrade and went into a controlled slide. In a moment he reached the bottom, several yards below the lawn, and skidded to a stop next to where his dazed roommate sprawled out on the grass. "Hey, are you okay?"

Slowly Daxter sat up. He shook his head, grass clippings and dry leaves fluttering from his red hair. His hoodie was covered in more of the same. The football lay innocently at his side. "Whoa…"

There was silence for a moment as Jak perched on his knees next to his dizzy friend, just birdsong and the dim hum of distant traffic filtering down through the sun and dappled shade of the gully. As soon as it became clear that Daxter wasn't hurt, though, Jak began to laugh again.

"What's so damn funny?" Daxter demanded, but a wry smile was tugging the corner of his mouth all the same.

"Y-you! You are the biggest klutz I have ever seen!" Jak howled, holding his ribs as he laughed helplessly.

"Shut up, asshole!" Daxter's face had turned cherry red. "I am not!"

"Says the—the guy who tripped me into the fountain this morning—!" Jak was tearing up. It was too good.

"Aaaugh, I just stepped in a mole hole, jerkoff! Stop laughin' at me! Yer the big barbarian who threw the damn ball too hard!"

Jak wanted to stop laughing. He really did. But he absolutely couldn't. So he just knelt there clutching his stomach like an idiot and did nothing to defend himself when Daxter tackled him to the moss with a war cry.

The tussle was rather one-sided. Jak didn't fight back. Daxter scrambled up, sitting on the green-blonde's stomach as he thumped Jak's chiseled chest lightly in a mockery of punches. By that time he was laughing, too.

"Hey, stop!" Jak batted weakly at a sudden rain of dry leaves as his friend grabbed a handful from the ground underneath them and turned them into fluttery projectiles.

"It's all ya deserve! Take it like a man!"

Leaves in his hair, grass stains on his pants, Jak gave up and went completely limp.

Dax raised his arms and gave a triumphant whoop of victory. "Oh, yeah, the Dax-man wins! Let that be a lesson, young Grasshopper."

Staring up from the ground, Jak let the last of his chuckles trail off as he watched the redhead against a backdrop of green and yellow leaves. He liked it when Daxter let go of his snark and degenerated into a giggly mess. It wasn't something that happened often, though it happened much more frequently now than it had at the start of the semester. Dax flipped his ears, crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked smugly, something he never would have been brave enough to do when they first met. It was achingly sweet. Something simultaneously tightened and loosened in Jak's belly.

God, Daxter was cute.

Daxter was cute, and straddling Jak's hips.

With the subtlety of a speeding freight train a small informational tidbit occurred to Jak: he hadn't been laid in almost two months, and his dick wasn't ignoring how nice the pressure of a warm body in his lap felt. Even if that warm, pleasantly weighted body was his roommate's.

Jak sat up so fast he dumped Daxter off his lap.

"Hey!" Dax squawked, clearly not expecting the move. He pouted up at the green-blonde from where he had sprawled. "No fair pullin' a move like that, I wasn't ready! Oh, oww… damn it, I think I landed on a stick. My ass is gonna be so bruised tomorrow…"

"Oh, I'm sorry—should I kiss it for you?" Jak shot back with a grin before he could consider the response.

"As a matter of fact, I think ya should! I always wanted ta have the damn _quarterback_ kissin' my skinny, freckled—Jak, no, wait, I didn't mean it, Jak!"

Too late. With a maniacal laugh Jak pounced, landing mostly on top of his hapless prey with another explosion of leaves. "No way! That comment means I have to tickle the shit out of you to preserve my honor, you little punk!"

So the tickling commenced, right alongside so much laughing and screaming that Jak was half sure the subsonic frequencies were setting off car alarms in the parking garage up by the dorm. For all his delight in making Daxter squeal and convulse, though, Jak never let himself forget that he had to—absolutely _had_ to—be gentle. If the redhead quit enjoying their play fight and Jak somehow missed an honest struggle to get away, God only knew what kind of new trauma he might accidentally inflict on his already-fragile friend.

Daxter didn't show any signs of being traumatized, however, much to Jak's relief. Sure he flopped and flailed, turned lobster red and laughed until he cried, but the ever-lighter smacks at Jak's invading hands were clearly not meant to actually ward him away.

"When's the last time you goofed around like this?" Jak finally asked bemusedly as he let his friend breathe. Air was generally an important part of life.

"I d-dunno!" Daxter laughed weakly, gasping for breath. "N-never!"

Could that really be true? Jak thought in surprise as he waited for the smaller boy to recover somewhat before resuming the offensive. Could Daxter really have never played this way with anyone before? It was such a simple game, a little tussle and tiny touches that… really did involve having more trust in the person pinning you to the ground than Jak had ever had reason to contemplate before.

A sudden warm tightness in his chest. An inaudibly protective growl in his head. The inexplicable urge to grab the scrawny redhead up out of the dirt and hug him until it was proved beyond a doubt that everything was and would be alright. Jak went still, simply watching Daxter as he leaned over him. The glint of prominent teeth caught his attention, and his eyes were drawn inexorably to laughter-flushed lips.

After a moment of silence Daxter seemed to notice the staring. His eyes darted up to Jak's face curiously. "What's up?"

For the first time in a long while, Jak was entirely out of words. "Uh… I…" _Come on, think, think, idiot fake jock, THINK—!_

Then a small rustling in the leaves by Daxter's head took all the thinking in the world and balled it up into one cubit of instinct.

"_Spider!_ Jesus _Christ_, huge spider!" Jak was off the ground, on his feet, across the creek, and halfway up the opposite bank before he could get enough of a grip on himself to stop the headlong rush to places other than where the eight-legged terror was.

Daxter sat up with a flurry of leaves and grass clippings. "Jak?"

"Dax, get up! Oh, God, move, it's right next to you!"

"What is?"

"The spider, you idiot!" Jak shuddered and turned away, brushing frantically at his arms and chest. Every clinging piece of mulch seemed to be sprouting too many limbs and myriad eyes. Daxter couldn't say he hadn't been warned when the behemoth thing crawled up his sleeve and—

"Oh, man, cool! This guy's gotta be a granddaddy or somethin'. Check him out, Jak."

The green-blonde could do nothing but stare in horror as his roommate crouched on the opposite side of the creek, poking at the monster with _his goddamn bare fingers holy fucking shit—!_

Jak covered his eyes with an impressively muscled forearm and screamed.

- / - / - / - / -

"So, lemme get this straight. You can fight psychos, tackle guys twice yer size, an' watch every kind'a horror movie there is without blinkin'. But ya can't handle spiders?"

"Shut up. I can't explain it, okay?" Jak grumped as they trailed down the hall toward their room. His ears were back, his hands jammed far into the pockets of pants muddy from the knees down thanks to his panicked sprint through the creek. "Everybody has something they hate and spiders are my thing."

Daxter glanced up from fumbling with his keys. "Even little ones?"

"All of them. Each and every one of the crawly little bastards. Spiders are the failed abortions of nature and I wish they would all burn in agony."

Daxter laughed loudly, then had to dart through the door to avoid the annoyed swat Jak aimed his way. "Hey, I wasn't laughin' at you, big guy! I think it's kinda cute, actually. Y'know, in a very manly an' totally not demeaning way."

Jak was clearly unconvinced as he stripped out of wet shoes and socks for the second time that day, but the redhead stood by his claim. It _was_ cute that big, strong, perfect Jak's Achilles heel was something so small and insignificant. Daxter was something of a coward by nature and even _he_ didn't mind spiders. Spiders could be cool. They could be long-speedy or chunky-furry or round-webby. Some of them came in neat colors. They ate flies and other annoying bugs, and they never really bothered anyone on purpose, like those stupid hornets and bumblebees that went around looking for a fight. Yeah, spiders were chill.

Oddly, though, Dax felt no need to lord the information over Jak they way he surely would have with, say, Torn or Razer. He didn't want to rush out and buy a pet tarantula. He didn't want to put plastic spiders in the quarterback's desk drawers. Having at long last found a crack in Jak's impenetrable Armor of Perfection, all he wanted to do now was… watch the crack and make sure nothing unwelcome crawled through it.

"No sweat, pal. I don't mind spiders. If ya see any around here just say the word—the Dax-man is yer own personal exterminatin' service. Free of charge."

Jak glanced up from tossing wet socks at the laundry basket they shared, an appraising look on his face. "Seriously? You're not just saying that so you can put rubber spiders in my backpack later, right?"

Damn, was Jak a mind reader or something? "Sheesh. Thanks fer the vote of confidence in me, Jak. Buddy. Pal."

The green-blonde had the decency to flush. "Sorry. Keira really liked to tease me about the spider thing."

"Yeah, well, by the sound of it you two were mutant ectoplasmic soul twins separated at pre-birth who gravitated back ta each other by a decree of Fate an' pursued a twisted-yet-sacred incestuous sibling relationship."

Jak stared at him in confused horror.

"Long story short, if anybody's earned the right ta tease ya, it's her." Daxter grinned as Jak shrugged off his colorful metaphor and flopped down on the bottom bunk.

"Whatever. I don't care if you tease me a _little_. But I draw the line at rubber spiders. Real spiders and I toss you out the window first and mourn our friendship later."

"Duly noted, Jakkie-boy. Where ya want me ta drop yer ball?"

"Just put it on my desk. I'll get it later."

Daxter checked the ball under his arm one last time to make sure all the mud was gone. When it had passed muster, he tucked it against the base of Jak's desk lamp. As he did so, something caught his eye. "Hey, where'd you get this picture of us?"

"Oh, that?" Jak waved airily from his sprawl. "Torn printed it off. He's still gloating about beating Ashelin. Apparently we were also in the paper this morning. I think he's begging to get kicked in the balls, but that's just me."

"We were in the paper? Wow…" Dax looked at the picture in awe. In his hands was actual, concrete proof that he had helped the quarterback win the relay race, and the whole campus had seen it! He relived it all again for the hundredth time since the day before—the thrill of victory, the cheers of the watching crowds, the look of unbridled happiness and pride on Jak's face before he'd hoisted the redhead onto his back for the picture. Having the visual aid just made the obligatory curl of warmth through his body all the stronger. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, hey, Jak?"

"Hmm?"

"I was just thinkin'. Since yer bulletin board's kinda full right now, maybe I could, y'know… hang this up on mine?"

"Oh, sure. Go for it. I was gonna hang it up on the door, but Ashelin would probably rip it down next time she comes over here to terrorize Torn."

The green-blonde sounded like he was on the verge of a nap. Dax really couldn't blame him. The guy had been running himself ragged for a week, stayed up late, and been woken up too early. He deserved some down time. The thought was accompanied by a surge of something both affectionate and oddly protective, and Daxter bit his lip a bit uneasily as he tacked the picture up beside his own desk.

_No, Daxxie. Forget it. Yer not gonna start gettin' all sappy over this guy. Nuh-uh. No way. We so do not hero worship football players. Not even ones as totally awesome an' incredible as Jak. Even if he is our friend, even if he's a freakishly nice guy, he's still a football player. There will be no worshiping of any kind between us an' that ilk, got it?_

Bolstered by his own pep talk, Daxter finished affixing the photo to his corkboard and turned back, ready to poke Jak out of his bunk cave to find more entertainment.

Jak had his eyes closed, head pillowed on his arm. Curled up in his unmade bunk with muddy pant cuffs and bare feet, he looked nothing like a quarterback and all like a simple country boy taking a break from running the hills and chasing cows. Or whatever the hell country kids did.

_Damn it. I guess I can let him sleep fer an hour. Or two. _With a sigh, Daxter dropped down into his desk chair and pulled out his favorite notebook. _Okay, so—this one time, out in the country, there were totally these guys named Jak Sawyer an' Dax Finn…_

- / - / - / - / -

"I can't believe this. I just can't. It's not something I can accept. It is Saturday night, Jak. Saturday. We could be crashin' parties on frat row. We could be at the movies. Hell, we could'a gone bowling! An' where are we instead? Doin' _homework_. Freakin' homework! You are the fakest of the fake jocks, Jak. The very fakest."

Jak grabbed the nearest nonlethal projectile at hand—an eraser—and threw it with tender, loving precision at his roommate's head.

"Oww, hey!"

"If you don't quit being a brat in two seconds I'll show you how jock I can be."

"Oh, yeah?" Daxter challenged.

"Do the words 'cheerleader skirt' and 'team Facebook profile' mean anything to you?"

The redhead grinned nervously and flicked his ears back. "Shutting up."

"That's what I thought."

It absolutely had not been Jak's fault that he had fallen asleep and stayed that way until nearly dinnertime. Daxter could have woken him up at any point and had not. Therefore it was clearly Daxter's fault that it was now evening and time for Jak to catch up on the homework he had been shirking for most of Homecoming Week.

Sure, he could have blown the work off… if not for two small facts. One, Jak took pride in doing things right. He firmly believed that it was possible to be a good athlete and a good student at the same time. He wouldn't turn into a blockhead who only passed classes because the coach plea bargained with their professors. And two, Sig was not the kind of coach who would allow his players to become blockheads who couldn't make C's or better in their classes under their own power. If his grades dropped, he would get the boot, plain and simple.

"Can I at least turn on the radio, or somethin'?" Daxter whined.

"If sitting still in a quiet room might actually kill you dead, then yes. I don't mind the radio."

"You'd better not, not when yer chattin' up yer mechanic girl with one hand and doin' yer chemistry assignment with the other."

Jak smirked. "Just because I can do stoichiometry and text at the same time is no reason to be jealous."

"Me? Jealous? As if." Daxter stuck his tongue out resolutely in a way that would have surely made him the awe of any self-respecting second grade classroom and turned on the radio.

Luckily, before Jak could become too sad at the temporary shunning, his phone buzzed happily.

_/So did u relax today Mr. Homecoming Hero?/ _

Jak smiled as he returned the text. _/Oh yeah. Dax and me went swimming in the fountain and had a wrestling match by the creek. Was fun/_

_/Oh wow. Sounds totally NOT relaxing :p/_

_/Was so. I was laying down both times/_

"What's so funny?" Daxter asked, glancing through the posts of the bunk bed quizzically when Jak chuckled at his own joke. The entire reason they had put their desks in opposite corners with the beds between them was so they wouldn't completely distract each other when they were supposed to be concentrating on their studies, but the redhead seemed to forget it on a nightly basis.

"Don't you have Spanish to work on?" Jak teased as his phone clattered a counterpoint against the cheap plywood desk.

Daxter pointedly turned up the radio.

_/So u and fake bf had a totally romantic date huh?/_ text-Keira asked impudently.

If she wanted to keep playing that game, Jak could roll with it. _/Very romantic and you would be jealous!/ _

_/Ur getting awful close to ths kid u met like three weeks ago Jakjak :p lol/_

The small, glowing screen gave Jak pause. Keira had a point there—even if he had actually known his roommate for closer to a month, it was still a little strange for Jak to have become such good friends with him so fast. Other than Keira, he had never become truly good friends with any of their classmates through their compulsory education years. Maybe it was simply the fact that he and Daxter _were_ roommates; they spent enough time together, like it or not, that Jak had come to accept the other guy.

The green-blonde glanced over. Daxter was performing an impressive drum solo on his open Spanish book with a ruler and a ballpoint pen, mouthing the words of the song as he did so, unaware that Jak was watching. His freckled ears were perked in concentration, eyes shut as he tried to keep the rhythm.

No. No, that wasn't the reason. Jak knew himself better than that. He wouldn't have attached himself to just anyone, forced cohabitation or not. The pull Dax had on him went deeper than that.

Suddenly the cap flew off the pen, clacked against the painted cinderblocks of the wall, and was lost on the floor. Daxter pouted at the shadow under his desk before dropping out his chair and onto his knees for a treasure hunt.

Jak smiled as he typed and sent the next text. _/You'll have to meet him Keira. Just something about him./_ He glanced back over at Daxter—or what was visible of Daxter as he dug around underneath his desk. Jak's smile twitched wider. _And he has a cute ass, too._

It took a moment for the enormity of the stray thought to hit him. His phone was down and his pencil was back up, eyes trained studiously on the numbers in front of him, when he paused.

Whoooooah. Back up, Jak.

_Did I really just check out his butt…?_

Daxter pulled himself off the floor, errant pen cap held aloft in triumph. "A-ha! Got the little bastard. Still didn't find my socks, though. Not that I think they'd be under there, but better safe than sorry." He grinned up at Jak, then cocked his head curiously. "You okay, big guy? Yer lookin' kinda lost over there. Chemistry finally stump ya?"

"Uh… no. No, it's cool. Just… had a thought. No big deal."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I'll just leave ya alone so you can do yer totally boring fake jock thing, then—wait, hang on, did that guy just say there's a chance of _thunderstorms_ tonight?"

Jak held his chem book like a shield even as Daxter pounced on the radio in a vain attempt to hear a weather bulletin already past. "I, uh, I think so. Wasn't really listening…"

While the redhead occupied himself with camping the radio waves, presumably in hopes that the announcer would repeat the weekly forecast, Jak occupied himself with pretending to do his assignment and looking covertly at his roommate out of the corner of his eye.

Okay. So he had just checked out Daxter's ass. Jak wasn't in the habit of lying, even to himself. He knew perfectly well what had just crossed his mind, so why deny it? But… what the hell had prompted a thought like that in the first place? He certainly wasn't in the habit of checking out the asses of his guy friends—there were limitless opportunities for that in the locker room and his eyes had never wandered. Why Daxter's?

_He doesn't look like a girl, even if he's twiggy. He's wearing jeans. Jeans aren't revealing or anything. It's not like he was being suggestive. And even if he was, he's a guy. Why would I notice it? That's so weird… _

"Well, I'm turnin' in."

Jak jumped guiltily as Daxter abruptly stood. "Uh, okay." Then he glanced at the clock. "Wait, already? It's barely after nine. You were so gung-ho to do something fun tonight."

"Yeah, I give. No sense comin' between King of the Fake Jocks an' his studies. I'm a classy guy, I know how ta take rejection. If ya need me I'll be wrapped up like a sushi roll in my bunk listenin' to some tunes."

"Goodnight, then. I'll turn my light down."

"Night, big guy. Don't work too hard—yer blonde brain might fry."

Jak huffed, but the cocky jab didn't deter him from spying over the top of his book as the redhead climbed to the top bunk. Yep. Ass was still cute. Tight and grab-able. Damn it. He had hoped that an experimental second look would prove that his neurons had just had a temporary misfire the first time. No such luck.

_Okay. Fine. My best guy friend and roommate has a great butt. So what. No big deal. I can accept that. I didn't say anything about it. I didn't smack it. No harm in looking if that's all it is, right? It's not like I'm going to start staring at guys in general just because I think one butt is nice._

Yes. There were no problems here. Nothing would change between him and Daxter. The other guy was just cute, that was all. Cute enough that if he had been a girl, Jak totally would have kissed him that afternoon by the creek—the quarterback tackled that thought to the turf of his brain like the outcome of the Super Bowl depended on not letting it through.

The stoichiometry numbers that had been so clear and logical twenty minutes ago were swimming. Great. Jak dropped his face into his folded arms with a muted groan. Daxter was in bed, he himself wasn't tired in the slightest thanks to his long afternoon nap, and his brain was buzzing like a pissed off bee.

Jak grabbed his phone. _/Hey Keira/_

_/Yeah?/_

_/Could you tell me to relax again?/_

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	8. Chapter 8

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

_Mi compañero del cuarto se llama Jak. Jak es alto y rubio con verde. Es muy guapo. Jak juegue fútbol norteamericano. El es rápido y fuerte – y muy talentoso. El es cómico y muy simpatico, tambien. Yo quiero hacer Jak. _

Daxter put down his pencil and reread what he had written. Five sentences "en español" describing a friend or family member: check. Review packet for the midterm exams: now three fourths finished. The redhead smiled smugly. That hadn't been hard at all.

However. That last verb. There was something off about it. He frowned slightly, tapping the offending mark with his pencil. _To be… 'I want to be Jak.' That's how ya say "to be," right? "Hacer?" Better check._

Digging quickly into his backpack, Daxter pulled out the dictionary he was rapidly becoming fond of.

_Where is it? "To be, to be…" Ah, here we go. "Ser." Oh, yeah. Can't believe I forgot that. _Carefully he wrote it in at the margin of the packet, not to be forgotten. It was an important verb, after all, and certain to be on the exam in a half dozen places. _Glad I checked that one. But if "ser" means "to be," then what does "hacer" mean? Better check that one, too._

Diligently the redhead flipped to the H's. If he wasn't careful he could begin to dig this whole bilingual business. At the very least, Jak would be proud of him for studying so har—

_Yer kiddin' me. No way!_ Abruptly Daxter slammed the book closed, suddenly wanting to whack himself in the head with it. Heads raised slightly all around the silent library study area but he took no notice, too busy frantically erasing his last sentence.

While it was still technically grammatically correct, the sentence was an incredibly embarrassing error on his part. _'I want to do Jak.' That's just perfect, Daxxie. I bet the professor would get one hell of a kick out'a __that__ one! Crazy woman gives me enough weird looks already._

So much for his concentration. Daxter sighed and tried his best to refocus. His Spanish midterm was tomorrow afternoon, for crying out loud. He had to get this stuff right! Now was no time to get hung up on how his personal vow to refrain from hero worshiping his roommate was steadily crumbling like a wave-washed cliff face.

It wasn't like he was letting said hero worship happen on purpose. He couldn't figure it out. An increasing number of games both home and away kept Jak busy enough, and the redhead's new job kept him preoccupied an extra twenty hours a week, the maximum a fulltime student was allowed to clock. He and Jak had been spending _less_ time together in the past month, not more. Strangely, though, their tight schedule made time they spent hanging out even more enjoyable.

More and more Dax would catch himself watching the green-blonde admiringly and have to shake himself forcefully out of that mindset. And it was absolutely not his fault! Rooming with Jak was like coexisting next to a majestic lion that had no idea just how majestic it really was and developed the personality of a kitten instead. Jak was helpful and kind and eager to please.

He also had the body of a porn star. All those hard muscles and traffic-stopping good looks that had terrified Dax at the start of the semester were catching his eye again in a different light—the light of blatant admiration and another, slipperier emotion he had finally pigeonholed as envy.

Yeah, that was totally it. He was just jealous of his buddy's smokin' hot bod. Who in their right mind wouldn't be?

_Spanish, goddamn it, Spanish! _Daxter raked a hand through his hair in agitation as he forced thoughts of Jak out of his mind. There was absolutely no reason why he should be sitting in the library at half past ten at night thinking about how his roommate looked without a shirt. Normal, healthy envy had a time and place, and this wasn't it.

… oh, but Jak did look so awesomely cool and bad ass sometimes that Dax wanted to swoon like the worst of the football team's fangirls. Like the day not long after homecoming when Phoenix and Razer had held a screaming match in the room next door, and Jak had been bound and determined to knock some sense into both of them if the fight didn't snap them out of the funk they'd both been in for almost a week prior. Jak had looked nothing more than coolly annoyed, whereas the redhead had been quietly flipping his shit—he didn't like fights. Not at all. Hearing the yelling barely muffled through the walls conjured too many memories of foster parents he barely remembered otherwise yelling at each other, at other kids, at him. Fighting never turned out well.

Dax had thought he had covered his nerves pretty well, but then Jak had turned off the radio he had cranked up to cover the ruckus and dragged Daxter down to the cafeteria to waste more meal points on him. He suspected that Jak had growled at Phoenix for it later on, too.

And that all led up to the big question mark that Dax still couldn't figure out: why was Jak so determined to use all that awesomeness at his disposal on a skinny, snarky, bucktoothed, freckle-faced—

Why was he even trying anymore? Obviously Daxter's brain was on an extended holiday in non-Spanish climes. Screw the last part of the review packet. He could do it in the morning. Now all he wanted to do was go home and collapse in his bed, and _stop_ thinking about the room's other occupant. At least falling asleep wouldn't be hard; after the all-nighter he had pulled yesterday to cram for the math midterm, even Red Bull wasn't going to jumpstart Orange Lightning anytime soon.

A cold breeze caught the redhead as he left the library, making him shiver and turn up his collar. He jogged from the glow of one streetlight to another, vaguely thankful it was only a couple blocks to the dorm. Fallen leaves swirled across his path. It was kind of amazing how fast the time had flown. The woods behind Praxis Hall and the trees of the quad were almost entirely orange and yellow, now. Mornings and evenings were downright chilly.

_Damn, an' it's only the middle'a October,_ he thought as he let himself into the dorm lobby._ Hate ta think how miserable it's gonna be runnin' back an' forth around this place in the snow. Hope Jak's got the coffee maker plugged in! _

Luck was on Daxter's side. No sooner had he made his way up the stairs and jammed his key into the lock did the enticing aroma catch his attention. His backpack hit the floor with a thump of the books inside, but there were much more important details to tend to. "Honey, I'm home!—and I smell coffee. Is there hot coffee? If there's hot coffee you just became my favorite person in the entire history of ever, Jak."

Jak glanced up from his desk chair. "Hey, Dax. Yeah, there's coffee. I thought you might want some." From under a fall of emerald-green hair, Killer blinked out at Daxter and yawned. "How'd the studying go?"

"Eh, I got most'a the packet done." Daxter grabbed a mug from their designated dishware drawer and poured a cup of steaming coffee, extra creamer. "I'll do the rest tomorrow before class, no big deal." He blew away the steam from the top of his warm mug and sipped happily. Ahhhh. Heaven. "What's with the ferret in yer hood?"

Jak smiled, reaching up to scratch his sleepy-looking pet under the chin. "He was in my lap, but then he climbed up there. I think he's cold."

"Oh, wow, we totally can't have cold weasel toes. That would be a tragedy."

"He is not a weasel," Jak cooed, voice dropping to a low timbre that only seemed to emerge when he was baby-talking Killer. "He's just not used to it being cold yet. It was almost hot yesterday, and then this morning it was only a couple degrees away from frost."

"Yeah. Couldn't stay warm forever, I guess. Sure was nice while it lasted, though." Another sip of coffee. Rather than doing anything to keep him awake, the seeping warmth was making Daxter content and even sleepier than he had momentarily forgotten he was. "Think ya did okay on yer chem lab midterm?"

"I still have all my eyebrows, don't I?" Jak raised one in illustration and Daxter laughed. "How was math?"

"I think I did okay, actually. Which really means that I did totally the opposite an' failed that sucker so hard I broke a record. Wonder if it's possible ta actually earn negative points on an exam…"

Jak threw a crumpled snack cake wrapper at him. It hit the floor between them with a flutter. "Would you stop talking like that? You say you're going to fail every damn time there's so much as a quiz in that class and you haven't failed anything yet. You don't suck at math. Get over it, embrace it, move on."

"Well, nyaaaah." Dax stuck out his tongue before gulping the rest of his cooling coffee. It was definitely time for a wash, a brush, and a bed. "So, uh. You take a shower yet?"

"Not yet. I was trying to finish my Sociology review. We're not taking the midterm in class, but I have to sign up and take it online sometime before this weekend."

"Oh." Daxter tried not to let his disappointment show. "No big. You just keep right on truckin'. I'll be back in a few." Just because he vastly preferred to shower when Jak did nowadays didn't mean that the green-blonde should have to drop what he was doing every single time and go with him. It wasn't like he needed a bodyguard in there or anything. How weird would that be?

But Jak was already closing his book and carefully lifting Killer off his shoulder. "No, no, it's cool. I was about to stop for the night anyway. I'm in."

It was bull and they both knew it. Jak was anything if not stubborn, though, so they collected soaps, shampoos, and the clothes they would be wearing to bed without further debate.

Daxter snuggled into his robe as they left the room to ward off the chill of the hallway. "I wish they'd go ahead an' turn up the heat in this place. Ain't you cold?"

Jak glanced down at the towel and flip-flops he was wearing. "Yeah, a little bit. Hey, I meant to ask you, would you be cool if I moved Killer's cage away from the window? It's really drafty over there. I don't want him to get sick or something."

"As long as he doesn't wind up in my bed, yer ferret can go anywhere you want. But in the meantime, let's hurry this up, huh? I'm gonna fall asleep standin' up in the shower if we don't."

"I think we talked about you staying up all night to cram."

"No sympathy, Jak? None at all? So mean."

The showers were mostly empty when they got there and completely deserted by the time they were done washing up. Daxter toweled his hair while Jak blow-dried. They brushed their teeth side by side at the sinks, the redhead for once too tired to make fun of the faces they made. He was even too tired to complain about how the hallways felt even colder after the warm, humid comfort of the showers. By the time they reached their room, he felt ready to drop.

"Are you even going to set your alarm?" Jak asked when all Daxter did was drop his robe and shampoo before beginning the climb to the top bunk.

"Phone'll go off at ten," he muttered as he flopped face first into his pillow. Oh, God, that felt good. He relaxed at once, body melting into the soft sheets. "Don't hafta be in Spanish 'til one." Eleven hours of uninterrupted sleep and he would still have more than enough time to eat, finish the review packet, and cram—_study_ some more. Oh, yeah. The Dax-man had it all figured out. Now, if only he could retrieve the blanket balled up at the end of the mattress without moving…

Jak sounded amused, even as his voice faded to soothing background noise. "Okay, Dax. I'll be sure to be quiet when I get up. I'm just going to move Killer's cage now, alright?"

"M-hmm." Sure. Of course. Whatever the big guy wanted.

"Yeah, think I'll shove your desk out in the hall and put the ferret in your spot. Then I'll draw a moustache on you with this permanent marker, okay? Are you cool with that, Dax?"

"Mmm." Boy, was Jak's voice nice. Deep and calm and…

Daxter was much too preoccupied with the backs of his eyelids to see Jak creep closer. He barely felt the whisper of a blanket being dragged up and draped over him. He didn't stir at the gentle hand ruffling his damp hair. He was far, far too content.

"Goodnight, Dax."

In the quiet of the dorm room Jak went about his business, moving ferret condos, finishing his sociology review, rinsing the coffee pot. The redhead in the top bunk was oblivious to it all. He was deeply asleep by the time Jak turned off his desk lamp and settled in downstairs. He didn't hear the rising wind outside or the rain beginning to patter against the glass of the window.

Daxter didn't hear anything at all, until the thunder started.

- / - / - / - / -

As usual, Jak fell asleep easily. That night, though, his rest gradually became fitful. Vague sounds and images began to penetrate his dreams. Deep rumbles. Bright flashes of light. He thought at one point the bed frame might have shaken, as if Daxter had scrambled down from the top bunk. A chair shrieked as it was pulled across the floor.

_Damn it, Daxter,_ he thought angrily, half asleep as the light flashed once more. _Keep the damn lights out when people are trying to slee—_

Crrrrack-a-BOOM.

"What the hell?" Jak shot bolt upright at the deafening sound, narrowly missing cracking his head on the underside of the bunk above him. Startled, he gulped a quick breath and looked cautiously around the darkened room.

…thunder? Yes, it had to be. Now fully awake, he couldn't help but register the pounding of hard rain on the windows and the mournful howling of the wind. _That's weird. A strong storm at this time of year? Should have known we'd pay for Indian Summer with something like this_, he thought wryly.

The green-blonde was moments away from rolling over and doing his best to go back to sleep again despite it all when he heard another sound, much softer than the wind and rain. He flicked an ear curiously. It almost sounded like a stifled choke.

_What the heck is that?_ Sitting still, he tried to decide where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be stemming from the corner by the door. Right where he had just moved Killer's cage to.

Jak sighed. He swung his legs out from under the covers and into the chilly air, grumbling softly to himself. "I swear to God, if that ferret has pneumonia I'm putting in a formal complaint that these rooms are too drafty."

Fumbling for the desk lamp, he finally managed to flip it on. As thunder echoed and boomed around the dorm he knelt next to the cage. "Killer? You okay in there, little guy?"

Sleep-glazed black eyes peered up at him from the ferret hammock. Sharp white teeth glinted in a wide yawn. Nothing abnormal there.

_Huh. I guess I need to stop being paranoid. _Smiling slightly, Jak reached through the bars to gently stroke his little buddy's back with one finger. Killer rolled in the hammock, making a sound of sleepy contentment—a sound immediately drowned out by another crack of thunder, and an almost simultaneous whimper.

Jak jumped. That had definitely not been a ferret sound. Slowly he turned on his knees to the shadowed space under his desk, only then noticing that the chair had been pulled away and was only partially in its correct spot. Tentatively the green-blonde reached for the chair and pulled it back further, peeking into the space beneath. "What the…?"

Hunched under Jak's desk with his knees hugged to his chest, blue eyes wide and face streaked with tears, his roommate stared mutely back at him.

Jak's jaw involuntarily dropped. "Dax? What are you _doing_ under—"

He never got to finish. Another cacophonous clap of thunder drowned the question, half a moment before the lights went out. Through the darkness he could clearly make out those same noises that had first caught his attention, now identified as Daxter's not altogether successful attempts at keeping hysterical-sounding whines quiet.

Jak reacted without thinking. One hand darted into the space under the desk and groped until he had Daxter's upper arm in his strong grasp. A quick tug was all it took to drag the smaller boy out. Dax didn't put up a fight, but didn't make a move to crawl out on his own, either. And if Jak had expected him to stay quietly sitting on the floor by the desk, he was sadly mistaken. Barely a second passed before the redhead suddenly lunged into Jak's arms. The quarterback was flabbergasted, to say the least, as thin arms anchored around his neck and harsh, ragged breaths panted in his ear.

"J… Jak…" came the breathless whimper.

_O-kay, what the hell is going on here?_ It was the middle of the night, he was tired, the power was out, what amounted to a tornado seemed to be revving up outdoors, and his roommate was practically sitting in his lap with a pro wrestler's chokehold on his neck. Crying. Well, this definitely had to rank as one of the top ten most awkward moments of his life.

Despite his intense confusion, though, Jak's throwing arm automatically rose to wrap around his friend and hold him firmly. Daxter was nearly frantic. Something was very wrong, and until he knew what that was Jak's gut reaction was to hold, comfort, and protect. He reached up with his free arm and fumbled blindly on top of the desk until his hand landed on the cell phone he habitually dropped there. Ah-ha. Now, hopefully it was charged…

In moments a soft glow illuminated the corner. Soothed somewhat by the light, small as it was, Jak readjusted himself. Sitting cross-legged with his back propped against the side of the desk, he shifted Daxter in his hold until the embrace felt a little more natural and much more comfortable. Only then did he try to talk to the still-trembling redhead.

"Dax? Dax, are you okay? Come on, Daxter, you need to _breathe_," Jak insisted softly. He didn't know what else to say under the circumstances. Daxter was gasping for air so fast and so shakily that he was almost hyperventilating. This was crazy. Had he had a terrible nightmare or something? "What's wrong?"

"S-storm," he finally choked out against Jak's neck. "Jus'… gimme a m-minute…?"

"Yeah, okay. Sure. Whatever you need." The green-blonde was quick to reassure, a hand lifting of its own accord to run through his friend's tangled hair. There was no way he would try to force Daxter to do anything when he seemed to be having a nervous breakdown. A reaction like this over a simple autumn storm? That had to be some kind of phobia!

In the end Jak wasn't sure how long they sat there. It occurred to him in passing to check his cell for the time when its light dimmed and finally went off, but he decided it was unimportant. He would sit there as long as Dax needed to.

_Damn, it's getting cold in here. _ Without power, there was no heat. Other, newer residences on campus may have had backup generators prepared for just such a situation, but apparently theirs did not. It figured.

The room began to chill. Before long Jak was holding Dax even closer, just to ward off the encroaching cold. The hand that wasn't occupied with being wrapped around the redhead's lower back continued to pet his hair and occasionally rub comfortingly at his long, satiny ears. It was the ear rubs that finally did it, Jak suspected—Daxter tentatively began to lean into them, and his breathing evened out into steady inhales and exhales against the shoulder he was slumped against. Jak couldn't have been more relieved.

_Thank God. He's still crying, but at least he's getting some __**air**__. _Gently Jak tried to coax him into a more upright position. "Hey, Dax? Can you sit up now? My ass is sort of asleep, here."

As if he had been shoved, Daxter immediately released his hold and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. Backing away from Jak, he stood shivering in the middle of the room, wide-eyed gaze darting from his roommate, to the desk, to the window, and back again.

In the lighting flashes, the green-blonde could clearly see trails of fresh tears down that pale face. He immediately berated himself. _I let him go too soon._

Apparently his job as comforter was not yet over. Would it take all night to calm the smaller guy down? Did he have a real problem? Should Jak go get Torn and let the RA deal with this? He tried to suppress the growing worries, and instead reached out to catch Daxter by one thin wrist and reel him back in. Maybe Dax would talk to him now.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he soothed, gently pushing the shaking redhead down to sit unsteadily on the edge of the bottom bunk. "I… I guess I still had no idea you were afraid of thunder. You were fine with the fireworks at the games, right?"

Daxter forced in a ragged breath, swiping helplessly at his still-streaming eyes. "I'm n-not scared'a the n-noise, I just can't ha-handle s-storms! I _hate_ 'em, Jak!"

His roommate's pitiful wail had Jak grabbing him up again immediately. "Hey, hey, shh. Shhh, Dax, it's okay."

It obviously was not okay, though. Jak had no idea what to do except to sit and gently pet his friend. Daxter was nearly in his lap again, the narrow shoulders under his hands quaking and heaving under the force of stifled sobs. This was terrible!

"Sorry… s-sorry," Daxter finally hiccupped, pulling back slightly from Jak's tentative hug and scrubbing futilely at his eyes once more. He would have raccoon rings the next morning, for sure. "I'll shut up, I p-promise. Just lemme get back under—"

"No. No way. You are definitely not going back under there." Jak searched desperately for another solution. It was cold and hard on the tile floor, and getting the redhead back into his own bunk seemed out of the question. "You can sleep down here tonight, okay? With me."

Daxter didn't answer, merely staring at Jak in disbelief as he got to his feet and groped in the darkness for the pillow he knew was on the top bunk. Locating it with the tips of searching fingers, Jak didn't hesitate to decisively plop it down next to his own.

"B-but…"

"Scoot."

A firm nudge finally moved the redhead. Very slowly he pulled his feet up and crawled further into the bunk, shrinking away as Jak followed. He didn't protest when the quarterback motioned him under the blankets, but was obviously trying his best not to touch Jak under the covers.

_Damn, he needs to relax,_ Jak thought as they settled in. "Well, at least we'll be warmer this way. It'll get pretty cold in here with the power out. Think we can get some sleep now?"

Daxter nodded slightly, obviously trying valiantly to keep a constant stream of whimpers at bay as the rushing wind grew louder. As close to the wall as he could get, the redhead had buried his face in his pillow and appeared to be trying to block out the world. "…m'sorry."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry, Jak. I know I woke you up, I'm keepin' you awake. Sorry." A shaky breath into the pillow, a sniffle.

Jak immediately regretted mentioning lost sleep, even if he had meant it to lighten the mood. "_You_ didn't wake me up, Dax, the thunder did. Besides…" He wanted to say he was glad he was awake, if he could help Daxter feel better. If he could do anything at all to make his little buddy lose the terrified look in his eyes. But he couldn't find the words he wanted and sighed in frustration. "Ah, hell. Just c'mere."

Daxter squeaked as Jak moved closer, one strong arm wrapping around his slim middle to pull him into a warm embrace. The green-blonde knew he was fighting that little surge of panic that inevitably resulted from the contact, now that it was him reaching for Daxter and not the other way around. Before had been just a fluke, Dax seeking any safety he could and diving on him out of sheer terror. He waited for Daxter to fight the feeling off and let it go before pulling him in tighter. Their chests pressed firmly together as he rested his chin on the top of his friend's head, the rest of them tucked together as closely as possible. He could feel the heart pressed against his own pounding.

"Relax," he commanded softly as Daxter bit back another soft whine. "Just relax. You're fine. It's okay."

Dax flinched, and then a hand slowly crept up to grip the front of Jak's shirt. Jak couldn't help but notice how timid that hand seemed, so different from how it was during the day. What a contrast to the hand that enthusiastically met high fives, snuck onto the corner of his lunch tray for a choice tidbit, and unabashedly swatted at him when he teased.

Jak let his own hand wander, cautiously moving to rub soothing circles across a tense upper back and shoulders. This time Dax didn't try to pull away. Jak was glad. For whatever reason he felt that just lying beside him was not enough. Daxter needed to keep being held, and Jak was grateful that he was trusted enough to be allowed to do it. "Any better?"

"Yeah." It was the barest whisper, far from reassuring.

Jak didn't stop the awkward petting, letting his hand trail down to brush the redhead's lower back and then back up to rub gently at the nape of his neck. Through the thin tee-shirt he had worn to bed Daxter felt almost cool to the touch, and Jak wondered just how long he had been huddled under the desk before being found. Even as the thought crossed his mind Dax shivered, ice cold toes tucking under Jak's much warmer leg without their owner seeming to realize they were doing so.

The simple action raised a lump in the green-blonde's throat, and he automatically hugged his friend even tighter to transfer over as much heat as he could. _Damn it. No wonder he's so cold. He's so small…_

The little guy had a fantastic appetite for someone his size, and Jak, with his athletic trainee's eye, thought he was even putting on a bit of weight in all the right places. Since they had met he appeared to be gaining some muscle, adding a bit of depth to that spindly frame. But now, shaking in his arms, the redhead had never seemed smaller or more fragile. The spunk and fire he normally exuded were glaringly absent, as if they had never existed.

"Why are you so freaked out, huh?" Jak murmured, the hand at the back of Daxter's neck never ceasing its calming strokes. It was time to get to the bottom of this. "What is it about storms that you hate so much?"

The defensive tense-up was immediate. "I don't wanna talk about—"

"Yeah, I know you 'don't wanna talk about it.' You 'don't wanna talk' about a lot of things. But this time I think you need to. Maybe it'll make you feel better."

A dubious sniff. Daxter was obviously less than convinced.

Jak sighed fondly into the wild mop of red pressed against the bottom half of his face. His friend was stubborn, he'd give him that. "Come on, spill it. You can trust me."

There was silence as Daxter thought it over. Finally he swallowed thickly. "You're not gonna let this one go, are ya?"

"No. Dax, you were hiding under my _desk_. That's sort of a big deal." He paused for a blink. "Why my desk instead of your own, I have no idea."

"Further from the window. But you say the word 'therapy' and I'll kick yer ass," came the quiet yet petulant mutter, half buried in his rumpled shirt.

Jak muffled a snicker. Dax had to be drastically calmer if he was tossing casual threats around. His voice was steadier, too, even if it was still much quieter than normal. "I swear I wasn't going to say that. But, seriously. Please tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help?"

"Sorry, I don't think ya can." Dax sighed, sounding almost resigned. "This got started a long time ago. Just full of childhood traumas, aren't I?"

The green-blonde didn't answer, content to let his friend wriggle into a more comfortable position. Daxter was going to tell him this time, he could feel it. He adjusted his arms to accommodate the redhead's move and in the process gave him a slight squeeze of encouragement. "Okay, I'm listening. Non-judgmental audience, right here."

Dax huffed. "Swear ya won't say anything if I tell ya. You can't get mad, and you can't feel sorry for me. I'm just gonna tell ya like it is, and you listen. Got it?"

"I promise."

"Okay." The redhead took a deep, steady breath and began. "This is actually one of the earliest things I can remember really well. I was really little… like three or four years old, I think. It was stormin' out and I guess it scared me pretty bad, 'cause I wouldn't stop crying. 'Course you know how annoying cryin' kids can be… They got pissed off an' finally told me they'd give me somethin' to cry about."

True to his word, Jak didn't make a sound as Dax paused to sniff and swipe some more at his face. Oh, but he wanted to ask. Who the hell were "they" that would rather punish a child for being afraid than try to comfort him? The same ones who would take a belt to him so hard he would have the marks for the rest of his life?

"Sooo… next thing I knew the door was open an' they threw me out in the rain. I mean, it was pourin', Jak. The wind was screamin' and the thunder an' lightning… it was awful. 'Course I tried gettin' back inside, but…"

"Door was locked?" Jak guessed softly.

"Yeah. I just stood there like a little idiot, crying and hangin' on the doorknob, begging 'em to let me in. It was raining so hard the gutters flowed over and I was right under it, gettin' drenched. It was freezin' cold."

Cold. Jak felt cold inside. He'd had a feeling this wasn't going to be a very pretty story, but… damn. Still he didn't interrupt.

The redhead shrugged slightly. "That's really all there is to tell. Pretty soon it started ta hail an' the lighting got worse. There was this big ol' tree out in the back yard a couple houses down. Lightning hit it, an' then—bam. Knocked me off my tiny footsies and that's all I remember. But after that, in my brain storms always equaled bad juju."

"And they still terrify you into a panic attack." Disbelief and anger warred.

Jak had memories of storms from back when he was that age, too. Memories of his father holding him up, standing at the screen door to watch the warm summer rain come pouring down. Chanting "Boom! Boom! Boom!" after every lightning strike until the real boom of thunder rattled the windowpanes and made him shriek with childish delight. He loved thunderstorms to this day. With so little effort on someone's part, Daxter might have been the same. But instead…

"Panic attack? I guess maybe that's what it is. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but…" The redhead managed a laugh. "Ever notice me listenin' ta the weather station before bed? An' some nights I'll go to sleep with my headphones on? It's not so bad when I know it's gonna happen an' can't hear the thunder so good."

Jak quietly digested the information. Now that he thought about it, he could recall nights where Dax seemed preoccupied, and retired early to bed with music blaring so loud through his headset Jak could clearly hear it on the lower bunk. How could he have missed that on every one of those nights there had been a thunderstorm? Granted there hadn't been _that_ many storms during the almost three months they had lived together, but still.

"I didn't think it was supposed ta even rain tonight." The comment was soft and offhand, almost like Dax was talking to himself. "Man, an' you've got a class first thing in the morning, doncha? At eight?"

"Sociology." Jak answered without thinking and then winced. He didn't want to make Daxter feel guilty. "But like I said, the midterm isn't in class. I can always skip. No big deal."

"You, skip? Mr. Perfect, miss a class on purpose without a deadly illness or a broken leg?" The redhead snorted in amusement. "Yeah, right. You'll go and you'll be exhausted, while I snooze half the day away up here until Spanish. Sorry."

The quarterback sighed. Daxter was right, of course. He had to admit, it was a little annoying to think about—until he heard the wind whistle through that annoying gap in the sill and felt his friend's answering shiver. "I said it's not a big deal. At least you're feeling better. Right?"

"Uh…yeah." Daxter seemed almost startled as he realized it was true. He had ceased to cry, stopped sniffling, and was finally breathing easily. Even the tension in his muscles had relaxed. "I _am_ feelin' better. But—"

"From now on you can just skip the headphones and… you know." Jak shifted, trying to ignore the light blush that was beginning to stain his face. "It won't bother me if you wanna just crawl in here."

The silence was deafening.

Jak's blush intensified. What the hell was he thinking, inviting his roommate to sleep with him when he got scared? If anyone found out about this he would never live it down. The bunk was too small and they were both much too old for such nonsense.

Only, it wasn't nonsense at all. He'd had a panic attack just once before in his life, while he was studying for Haven U's entrance exams at the end of his senior year of high school. A lot had been riding on that test; his football scholarship would have been meaningless if he couldn't pass it. He remembered his ears ringing, being hot and then cold all over, not being able to breathe, feeling helpless and utterly terrified. His resolve strengthened.

"I mean it, Dax. If there's no room just shove me over and get in. I'll move."

"Why?" The query was deceptively quiet. Daxter had stiffened in his arms.

"Why will I move? So you can get in, duh."

"Why do you fucking _care?_"

It was almost a full-fledged scream, and startled Jak into nearly falling backwards out of the bunk. Abruptly the redhead wrenched himself out of Jak's arms, shoving him away. It was only when Jak registered that Dax had rolled away to firmly face the shabby dorm wall that he realized what was going on.

_God damn it. _Daxter was crying again and trying desperately not to show it. _Great. Now what do I do?_

Jak lay still for a long while, weighing his options. As much as it hurt him to just let his friend lie there and cry, he knew that he should let it go. Daxter was no longer crying because he was terrified to the brink of hysteria. This was a different kind of emotional distress, and something he clearly wanted to be left alone to deal with for a while. Jak wouldn't push it. But he wasn't going to ignore the fact that he had been asked a question, either. A little reassurance seemed to be in order. Very carefully Jak scooted forward and looped his arm back around the smaller body next to him. He could feel Daxter's breath catch as he was snuggly pulled back against the quarterback's broad chest.

"Jak, l-look, I—"

"I care," Jak said softly and firmly, warm breath tickling a long, rapidly twitching ear, "because I _like_ you, Daxter. I like you a lot, even though you seem determined not to believe it. And whether _you_ like it or not, I consider you my best friend. Well, besides Keira, but it's not even the same kind of—uh, anyway. What I mean is, when you're upset, it upsets me. If it'll help you sleep and not hide under the furniture in the middle of the night, then get your skinny ass down here and sleep with me." He let the statement sink in for a moment before adding as an afterthought, "Please."

Dax didn't try to push him away again, much to his surprise. There was only a shaky deep breath and a loud sniffle. "If anybody saw what a s-sap yer bein', you'd totally get thrown off the t-team."

Jak grinned and let out a relieved sigh. If the redhead wasn't disputing his admittedly sappy statement of friendship, that must mean he wasn't going to fight it anymore. "Well, maybe I don't want them to think I'm just a jerk that would let his best friend freeze on the floor and cry. Maybe I should tell them about our super awesome bonding moment myself."

"Go to s-sleep, ya big idiot!"

Well, that certainly settled that. Jak chuckled and drew back, willing to accept that his roomie was still determined to give him the cold shoulder. The green-blonde guessed that he would want some alone time if someone else had seen him cry that much, too. It had to be embarrassing. Still, he didn't see the harm in giving his friend's shoulder one final squeeze of reassurance before turning away. "Goodnight, Dax."

There was no response, but then again Jak hadn't expected one. He rolled over, as carefully as he could on the narrow bunk, until his back was against Daxter's. Surprisingly, it was comfortable as sin. The cold air of the dorm room pressed in around them, but their combined warmth under the blankets was more than enough to keep it at bay.

_Hmm,_ Jak thought contentedly. _I almost forgot how nice it is to sleep next to somebody. This wouldn't be so bad if Dax wasn't so upset._

- / - / - / - / -

_This wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't such a moron._

Curled tightly on his side facing the concrete blocks of the wall, Daxter tried to keep his shivers under control. Jak's warm back against his helped with that. Despite his harsh reaction earlier, the redhead wasn't naïve enough to believe that he didn't owe Jak big for this. This was the calmest he had been during a storm since before he could remember. Having Jak hold him close and warm, feeling gentle hands pet and rub his back, shoulders, and hair—that contact he would have been sure he despised only a few months ago had been a tremendous source of comfort as he trembled and tried not to sob. And that voice, that low, smooth, calm voice telling him over and over again that he would be alright, that everything was okay…

_Why does he hafta be so goddamn __**nice**__?_ Dax thought despairingly, hugging his pillow tighter and trying his level best to stem the flow of humiliating tears. _And why do I care so much about it? I'm breakin' all my own rules!_

He couldn't let himself get used to this. He couldn't take what Jak had said to heart. Not completely, anyway. The green-blonde might consider them best pals _now_, but sooner or later Jak would no longer be there. He would be back on his own, just Daxter versus the world, like usual. Like it always had been. He couldn't let himself hope it might somehow be different.

But, still. Dax sniffed and wiped his face against his pillow. Things had definitely improved since he had begun college life and met Jak. Since he had shacked up with the quarterback no one had dared give him so much as a bruise or scrape, and now here he was feeling almost safe with a huge storm raging right above their heads. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to pretend that they would always be friends, just for a little while.

Daxter allowed himself to imagine it for a moment. He pictured someone trying to put him out in the weather here, now, when Jak had his back.

_It'd never happen,_ he thought, easing his grip on the pillow and listening to the green-blonde's steady breathing. _They'd hafta go through Jak first. He'd give 'em that sneer and crack his knuckles and they'd scatter so fast—! _

The thought had him smiling and rubbing away the last of his tears on the corner of Jak's blanket, until another flash of lighting lit the room through the thin curtains. Before the thunder could even sound Daxter had rolled and shamelessly buried his face between his roommate's shoulder blades.

Oh, well. Pride was something he didn't have an awful lot left of that night anyway. Maybe Jak would even turn back over and put an arm around him again? That would be—no. No, no, no. Daxter felt his face flushing at the thought. _No way. Totally not goin' there. He's gotta be asleep already, anyway. Just listen ta that deep breathin' he's got goin' on. Didn't even twitch when I rolled over, either. Big guy sleeps like a freakin' log._

He wasn't sure exactly what it was that made him move closer. He wasn't that frightened any longer, per se, but for some reason he couldn't describe he still wanted to be nearer to his friend. Scooting forward until his nose was being tickled by Jak's hair, in fact until he was nearly snuggling against the quarterback, Dax sighed.

_Jak, from now on, I think… I'm gonna trust you. _

Until Jak gave him reason to think otherwise, Daxter would believe him. He would accept without any more questions or second-guessing that they were best friends. There was still plenty of school year left to enjoy before they went their separate ways—which they undoubtedly would when next summer came. He still had no false illusions about that.

Starting immediately tomorrow morning, though, the redhead would turn over a new leaf and begin giving back as good as he got. He would make Jak smile, make him laugh, stop taking advantage of his extra meal points. He might even volunteer to take a turn cleaning the ferret cage. He would prove that Jak wasn't wasting his time being kind to his smart-mouthed little roomie.

_I'm gonna be all happy and open with ya, and be the best little pal you ever had, _he thought determinedly._ Hell, I'll even pipe up an' tell ya when I think ya look all cool an' awesome. You can tell yer best friend when he's lookin' fine, right? That's a normal friend thing. I think. Even though I'll prob'ly be tellin' ya that every day, since you __**always**__ look gorgeous._

Satisfied with his decision, the redhead relaxed completely. Cutting short his own mental rambling, he settled in. Not that he planned to stay or anything. No way would he be caught dead the next morning practically spooning the campus's most adored football player.

_Boy, would some'a those chicks kill ta be in this position right now!_ Daxter grinned nervously. _Gettin' all cozy with the quarterback._ _Maybe I'll just…_

Very, very carefully, he snaked an arm around Jak's trim waist. He was asleep, right, so what harm would a little hug of silent thanks and apology do? Besides, he would be out of Jak's bed and back up into his own as soon as the storm blew out or the sun came up. Whichever came first. His roommate would never know.

Pressed against Jak, feeling his chest rhythmically rise and fall, Daxter couldn't help but be at ease. Calm and content despite the continued noise of the storm outside, he smiled softly. "G'night, buddy."

- / - / - / - / -

Jak's eyes had widened when Daxter rolled over and moved against his back. They nearly bugged out of their sockets when a thin arm crept around his waist. Though his breathing remained deep and steady and he hadn't moved a muscle, he couldn't have been more surprised. _Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out. Does this mean he's not mad at me after all?_ _That would be cool. Now we can both get some sleep and I don't have to worry about—_

With a soft, sleepy noise, the redhead squirmed against his back. Jak almost cracked a smile at how quickly his roommate had moved on from violently rejecting his caring attention when a knee gently wedged between his own from behind, and Dax was suddenly pressed up against him completely. Everywhere.

_Oh my God, no. Not now. We've been through this, body! _

Jak had to fight the urge to groan in frustration as a familiar heat lit his face and neck, shortly followed despite his best efforts by an answering heat in his lower belly. This could not end well.

_I'm so stupid. I didn't even think about how weird it would be if I got turned on when I made him sleep here. How could I not have thought about that, with all these damn weird thoughts I've been having about him lately…?_ Jak absently gnawed at his lip. He should be disappointed in himself. Strange thoughts and urges about his roommate aside, Daxter was vulnerable right now! He needed comfort and support, someone to make him feel safe. Not someone who got aroused just because he was a warm body hanging on them.

_That's all it is_, the quarterback told himself firmly. _He's in my bed and touching me and—of course I'm horny! I need laid so bad my body doesn't care that he's not a girl. That's all it is. _

Unbidden and all at once, Jak thought of Daxter's quirky laugh. His slightly bucktoothed grin, his gratitude when Jak helped him with math problems and treated him to snacks, the way his eyes lit up when the quarterback proposed they go somewhere and do something fun together. Jak recalled all over again how angry he had become each time some new, pitiful story was revealed about his friend's past. How happy he had been when the redhead didn't squirm away from his shoulder rubs, tickling, and wrestling matches. The inexplicable need he felt to help Daxter and hold him and…

Suddenly Jak didn't feel so good.

…_oh please let that be all it is._

The green-blonde swallowed thickly and tried to think normal thoughts. Cheerleaders. Bikinis at the pool. Cute waitresses in short skirts. The women's volleyball team on mud volleyball day. Daxter shyly trying to pull his shirt back on after a shower and getting the neck of it caught around his ears—

Jak gave up. He just needed to quit thinking altogether before he came to a really horrible conclusion. Instead he would just concentrate on diffusing some of the tension between them before things got seriously awkward.

_Come on, Dax, ease up a little._

The redhead was unconsciously squeezing him around the waist, tighter and tighter. It wasn't uncomfortable or anything, and Jak would be lying to himself if he said he didn't like the contact, but if Daxter's hand moved any lower… Jak didn't want his hand to move any lower. Gently he grabbed his friend's limp wrist and pulled that errant hand upwards until the warm palm rested against Jak's chest rather than his stomach.

_There we go. I don't want to be responsible for what happens to you if you grope me in the middle of the night._ Jak's blush intensified. _I mean, I wouldn't want to slug you or anything if you startled me by grabbing me. Not that I'd, uh, put the moves on you or anything. I hope…_

The need to bang his head against something was rapidly growing.

Realistically, what he needed to do was just bite the bullet and pick a likely candidate from his ever increasing queue of fan-girls. Even though he found the idea distasteful, a one-night stand would probably do him a world of good.

_Huh. The only problem is picking just one of them without starting World War III,_ Jak mused. He could just imagine the scene as the girls fought for his attention. The slapping, clawing, and hair pulling would go unchecked. Bras would be snapped. Blouses would be ripped. Oh, the carnage.

With a tired chuckle, Jak shut his eyes. The funny thoughts were enough to relax him a little and help him forget about his current situation. He could think more about what he would do tomorrow. Right now it was time to catch what few winks he could before the alarm heralded yet another fun-filled morning of hurriedly gulped coffee and droning sociology lecture. One couldn't sort out drastic personal issues when they were dead tired, after all.

Daxter hadn't moved, sound asleep behind him and breathing regularly against the back of his neck. Everything was fine there. Giving one last brush to the hand on his chest, Jak fluffed his pillow into a more satisfying shape and settled in.

_Just hope he doesn't toss around in his sleep much. There's not enough space as it is. _Smiling at the thought of pillow-slapping his friend awake in retaliation if he got kicked out of bed that night, Jak drifted back to sleep to Daxter's deep breaths and the sound of the fading rain and thunder in his ears.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	9. Chapter 9

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

For the first time in a long time, Jak woke up holding someone. His arms were full of warm, his face full of shampoo-fragrant softness. Thoughtlessly he hugged his companion tighter, smiling against that sweet-clean hair. As he raised a hand to pet through it his fingers brushed the tips of long ears, which he paused to rub lightly. The action caused a soft squeak, a hot breath puffed out against his neck, and Jak sighed deeply.

This was nice. This was so, so nice.

The arm draped across his ribs, so light he had barely felt it, shifted just so. Fingers curled in the back of his shirt. A leg slid against his as the tangle of limbs under the blankets just got worse. Nobody was objecting.

Slowly Jak trailed his hand down a supple spine. There was an arch and a curl, a squirm to get closer as he reached a firm behind and helped out with the process. The lips against his neck twitched in a murmur and Jak shivered. Blue eyes opened blearily even as his hand performed a sly maneuver under the hem of a shirt—and froze.

He was looking down on red hair, not blue-green.

Adrenaline flowed through Jak in a wave, a split instant ahead of the return of rational thought. The warm, shadowy nest of blankets and pillows under the top bunk solidified his memory: who was in his bed and what had happened last night to get them there. The green-blonde lay perfectly still, trying to keep his breathing under control even as his heartbeat sped at an uncomfortable pace.

So he and Daxter were wadded up together. Okay. Okay. No big deal. It was a small bed. Not a lot of space. Curling together was a natural response to such close quarters. No need to get bent out of shape about it. He could still back out, slip out of bed without waking his roommate. Daxter still needed to sleep, after all—

The redhead in question exhaled against Jak's neck. And all thought of moving fled his mind.

Daxter needed to sleep. He needed a lot of things, after a night like last night. Gingerly Jak let his fingers curl against a smooth lower back, an awkward attempt at small, unobtrusive contact without waking. If it felt good to him to be all warm and snug, how much nicer would Dax feel to be so secure? And really…

Jak didn't want to let him go.

_It's just a hug,_ he told himself almost desperately. _Hugs are fine. You can hug your best friends. _He clenched his eyes shut again as he tightened the one-armed embrace. It was a feeble excuse. For, as much as he genuinely wanted to hug Daxter for comfort's sake, there was also an ulterior motive. _Damn it, who the hell am I kidding. I need to get out of here. If he wakes up and I'm awake and I'm hard and he's hard he's going to blow every intact gasket he's got. _No matter how good it felt to have the redhead's thigh unconsciously provoking his morning wood.

Mind made up, Jak took a breath and gathered his resolve. Before he could commence gentle extraction of his person from the pliant jumble of Daxter's limbs, though, the universe pulled a fast one on him.

_**Beep beep beep beep beep beep—**_

"Fuck!" Jak swore as quietly as he could around the heart that had leapt up his throat. He let go of Daxter and rolled blindly. The move landed him on the floor with a nasty thud and another curse at the freezing tile. He scrambled to his feet and dove at his desk, slamming a palm down on the alarm's snooze button. Silence returned like a blanket had been dropped over the room, and he held his breath.

Had Dax woken up?

Fortunately for Jak, his roommate barely twitched. There was a minute movement as Daxter shifted slightly, almost oozing over into the warm spot Jak had left behind. He burrowed his nose under the edge of the blanket and then… nothing. Only a wild mop of red hair sticking up peacefully over the pillow.

Jak let out an unsteady breath of relief.

Then he berated himself a second later. He should have known better. Daxter regularly slept through both sets of alarms. Many mornings it took Jak shaking him awake to get him moving, and nothing short of a fire alarm shrilling out a middle-of-the-night drill could wake him before then. Or a surprise thunderstorm, apparently…

As quietly as he could, Jak got dressed and collected his backpack. Normally he had a pretty set morning routine—start the coffee maker, feed Killer, wander to the bathroom with his toothbrush—but right now he just needed to get out of the room as fast as possible. Forget his finally undeniable attraction to his roommate as fast as possible.

Just what the hell was he supposed to do now?

- / - / - / - / -

Rattle.

Rattle rattle rattle.

Bang BANG rattle.

The noise went on for almost a full minute before it garnered a response.

"Grrrr—_shaddup_, ya little asshole!" Daxter yelled, pulling the pillow over his head. "S'too damn early fer this! Jak, will ya fill up yer weasel's bottle alrea—" Then he froze.

Oh.

Oh, _shit_. Daxter's head jerked up, flipping the pillow off the bed and onto the floor. One panicked glance at the color of the blanket draped over him and his worst suspicions were confirmed. This wasn't his bunk. He hadn't gotten up last night and gotten back in his own bed. He had fallen a-freaking-sleep right there in his roommate's space, sprawled all over the quarterback like the clingiest of limpets.

Life was officially over.

The redhead moaned. He reached blindly over the side of the mattress, pulled the pillow back topside, and buried his face in it in the not altogether vain hope of suffocation.

_How could I do that?_ he thought in disbelief._ Literally __**how**__ could I let myself do that? Fallin' asleep in another guy's bed while you an' him an' all yer friends are drunk is one thing, but after a clusterfuck like last night? I am never gonna live this down. Ever. Whatever cool points ya had with Jak before last night? Forget it, Daxxie—straight in the damn wood chipper._

It didn't bear thinking about, so he tried not to. But, as was usually the case, he did anyway.

What time was it? It had to be at least eight by now if Jak was gone. For whatever reason, that meant that the green-blonde had decided not to kick the interloper out of his bed and gone silently on his way to class. There he went, being all sickeningly nice again. Daxter's ears twitched back rigidly as he cringed.

To add mortification to more mortification, he was pretty sure he'd been having some kind of weird wet dream. Or close to it, anyway, if imagining his ears being played with and his back being petted even counted in the realm of sexual. Sure had turned him on, though. At the very least Jak couldn't have been there to see anything he might have done to give away the nature of such a dream, if the big guy was already in class.

A deep sigh into the pillow pressed against his face did nothing but signify that he was, in fact, still alive and un-suffocated. And also that he had Jak's pillow instead of his own. And that whatever shampoo Jak was using smelled really kick-ass good.

…well. He wasn't going to get any more humiliated. As long as Jak already knew that he'd slept there, no harm in staying where he was for a bit longer.

Killer made ferret-noises of annoyance from his cage, but Daxter burrowed back under the blankets. It wasn't his job to tend to Jak's pet. Or… maybe it could be? The promise he had made to himself the night before came back to prick him guiltily. If Jak was dead set on putting his all into this friendship business, Dax could certainly afford to invest a little more effort into being a better friend as well. Surely that involved doing random nice things for his roommate, up to and including occasional ferret duty.

The ferret bottle began to rattle again, sloshing the scant inch of water in the bottom.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold yer horses, rodent. I'll be with ya in a minute."

He really meant it, too. He meant it right up until the moment when he fell back to sleep, cheek comfortably nestled in Jak's pillow and arms curled around his own.

- / - / - / - / -

When Jak arrived at the lecture hall it was 7:34 AM. Class wouldn't start for another half hour. Even the door was still locked, undisturbed since the final class of the night before. The green-blonde sighed deeply and sat down in the empty hall to wait.

Just don't think about it. That was all he had to do. Just don't think about it.

Jak tried to concentrate on the chill of the tile floor and how cold the walk across campus in the frosty morning air had left his glove-less hands. He tried to be annoyed that he had missed his morning coffee, irritated that there wasn't a coffee machine in that building, aggravated that even if there was a coffee machine in that building he couldn't have any coffee from it anyway because he didn't have any spare change or small bills on him and he wasn't stupid enough to feed the thing a ten and trust it to give back the rest.

Instead all he could think about was whether or not Daxter was still warm without him under the covers.

The remembrance of shared body heat, of holding his friend so close and content, sent a bright spiral of warmth through Jak's midsection like he'd gotten that hot coffee after all. He pulled his knees to his chest, crossed his arms over them, and dropped his face in his arms helplessly. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

In his pocket, his phone rattled against his keys as it buzzed.

He took his face out of his arms, curiosity momentarily overcoming his distress. Who would be texting him so early? There was next to no way Daxter would be awake already and Keira didn't have any morning classes. Betting on a message from Phoenix, Jak grabbed his phone.

_/Heya blondie/_

The green-blonde groaned. Great. Just what he didn't need right now. _/What is it Jinx?/_

He still wasn't sure just how the grad student that instructed freshmen chem lab had managed to get his number. Probably had something to do with Mog, one of the duller members of the Haven Warriors defensive line who just so happened to be pals with Jinx.

_/Just sayin hi to my little pal jakkieboy./No crime in that is there?/_

Jak sighed deeply. Come to think of it, he still couldn't figure out a lot of things about Jinx. Like how the ponytailed dirty-blonde was smart enough to actually make it into the graduate program in the first place. And how someone had decided he was a good candidate for instructing twenty freshmen in a room full of volatile chemicals. And whether or not the chemistry department's insurance premiums had skyrocketed since the self-proclaimed "boom boy" had been hired on. But just then, Jak sort of had more important things to think about.

_/No Jinx. I dont want to know about the party you crashed last night/Or that hot girl you met/Or the latest lab equipment you destroyed in your latest bombed experiment/Pun NOT intended by the way/_

_/Awww blondie youre breakin my heart here. Somebodys grouchy this morning./_

Jinx might have been that guy that texted when he was drunk or bored and ate up the text limit on Jak's phone plan. But he was an okay guy deep down. So Jak kept answering. _/Sorry. Kind of tired. Stayed up really late./_

_/Partying hard huh blondiebabe? Teacher is so proud!/_

Jak's ears fell flat. _/I really, REALLY wish you wouldnt call me babe, or blondie either. And you arent a teacher you are a lab instructor. And i was not partying./_

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Somehow Jinx could even make the vibrate function sound annoying. _/Same thing. Its ok, jak. You can tell teacher these things, i understand perfectly. YOLO and all that./_

_/YOLO?/_ That was a new one on Jak. Since when was someone years older than him throwing around slang like he was a cool kid?

_/You Only Live Once jakkieboy/_

It brought the quarterback up short. He stared at the message. You only live once…

_/Gotta enjoy yourself while ya can./Live it up now blondie, cause im tellin you college is the best place in the universe to let it all hang out/Be yourself and try new shit and be a rebel/The real world sucks, why do you think i came back here? lol jk/_

_/Wow, you are just the most responsible "teacher" ever Jinx./_ Jak's fingers were texting, but his brain was a thousand miles away. _Try new things. Be a rebel. Enjoy yourself while you can…_

_/I am, aint I?/Anyway jakkiebabe i need a teensy little favor from my favorite and best pupil. Mog lost his damn phone that idiot/Me and grim been tryin to get holda him for days/Could you tell the dunce to call me or come find me or send off a carrier pigeon or fucking SOMETHING when ya see him at practice?/So we know the rats in his apartment havent eaten him alive yet/_

_/Yeah sure whatever. Will do./ _

_/Thanks kid youre a champ/A champ whos getting some major extra cred on the next lab practical. See ya in class blondie./_

Jak didn't bother to reply. He was off the floor, phone tucked back in pocket, backpack hoisted as he strode quickly away from the lecture hall just ahead of the earliest arriving students. Some things—not many, but some things—were just important enough to miss a day of sociology lecture for. This was one of those things. He had a wild idea and a pounding heart, and he needed a second opinion from the only upperclassman he knew who even began to fill the position of mentor.

/ - / - / - / - /

"Hey, Torn? You got a minute?" Jak asked through the small crack he had dared to open in the RA's door.

Torn glanced up with thinly-veiled impatience. He sat at his desk, half surrounded by piles of books, binders, and papers. A half eaten Hot Pocket lay abandoned on a paper plate beside him. "How long is this minute going to take, exactly? My thesis isn't going to write itself, as much as I wish it would sometimes."

"Right." Jak stepped inside awkwardly. "I just had a question, I guess. For someone who's been in college a while and has, uh, a little bit more experience."

Torn looked at him for a moment, then sighed. "This is going to be a long minute, isn't it?" He pushed away from the desk and spun in his chair to face the green-blonde. "I can see this is going to morph into some kind of warm, fuzzy talk with one of the dear boys that live in our happy, happy hall. Alright. What kind of question are we talking about here?"

Something in the condescending tone made Jak buck his awkwardness right out the door and answer with a straight up poker face. "Have you ever done anything gay while you've been in college? And tell me the truth. Bullshit doesn't help any."

Torn's expression didn't change.

Neither did Jak's.

Slowly, slowly, Torn swiveled his chair back to the desk and dropped his face onto his keyboard. "Fuuuuuuck."

"Oh, come on. Come on, big-shot RA, quit being a dick for once and mentor me. This is the kind of shit you get paid for, right?"

"Correction! No one could ever pay me enough to put up with this particular type of shit."

"So is that a yes or a no?" Jak prodded, arms crossed over his chest as he tried to decide whether to be more frustrated or amused.

"You know what? I'm not going to answer that."

"Answer it or I'll go down the hall and tell Ashelin that you won't answer it!"

Torn's chair squealed with how fast he spun back around. Horror and fury warred on his tattooed face. "… I'd call you a liar, but unfortunately I know better."

Jak allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk as he sank down on the edge of the older man's bed. "Thought so. Now, about that warm, fuzzy talk we were going to have. Spill."

"Getting curious already, huh?" Torn growled, taking a vicious bite out of his Hot Pocket, now gone cold. "That certainly didn't take long. You're not even through with your first semester and you're already wobbling on the fence."

Jak scowled. "Get to the point."

"My point is that everyone gets curious at some point, kid. If they tell you they don't then they're lying, insecure as all hell, or both. It's as simple as that. College is just a convenient place to try it out without consequences."

"All the stereotypes are true, huh?"

"If you want to experiment with it—drugs, drinks, sex, liberal arts majors—college is the place. It doesn't count until after college," Torn said flatly. "End of story."

Jak pretended to be very surprised. "Oh, I get it—so that's why you can still show your face on frat row! So, are the videos still up on youtube? How long did it take for all your body hair to grow back?"

"Get. Out. Of my fucking room."

Feeling as though he had won the minor skirmish, Jak went gladly. He had a redhead to find, after all. He pulled Torn's door shut behind him and headed down the hall for the room he and Daxter shared.

He passed one door. _Okay. So I'm a little bi-curious. Okay._

Two doors. _I'm bi-curious and that's not weird. That's normal. In college it's normal to fool around and experiment._

Three doors. _I want to experiment with Dax. _

Four. _Maybe… maybe Dax would want to fool around too. Like… with me._

Then he was standing in front of his own door in the empty hall, failing to calm a sudden case of jitters. He had to relax. He had to breathe. He couldn't be a dope and mess this all up. Even though he and Dax would actually be awesome experimental fooling around partners because they got along—damn, so well!—and Daxter was pretty laid back—really cool!—and the redhead wasn't already occupied with seeing someone—must be meant to be!—and he was really, really cute and—

_Calm. Your. Shit._ Jak took a deep breath and stuck his key in the door with a minimum of jittery jingles. _Okay. You may proceed. And don't wake him up, idiot._

Heeding his own order, the quarterback stepped into the room very quietly. His eyes immediately shifted to the bottom bunk. Yep, Daxter was still there, right where he had been left less than an hour before. Still asleep. Good.

Jak smiled. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his backpack in his desk chair, hung his jacket on the back of it. Then he noticed Killer.

If a ferret could stare accusingly, this one was.

"Damn! I'm sorry, little guy," Jak whispered. He had been so busy freaking out when he woke up that he had completely forgotten to feed and water Killer! "Hang on, I got it." Very guiltily he took the empty water bottle over to the mini-fridge and topped it off from the plastic pitcher he kept there for the purpose. A generous helping of ferret chow came next, with some treats added on top of the bowl for apology's sake.

_Okay. Ferret hating me crisis averted. _

Now. What was he going to do until Daxter woke up? It was strange not being in class when he knew that he should be. With Killer taken care of and breakfast on the back burner until Dax was awake to join him, Jak wasn't sure what to do with himself.

Unbidden, his eyes slid back to the guest in his bed.

Dax looked, as he had earlier that morning, warm and comfortable. He was curled on the far side of the bunk, almost up against the wall. The comforter was pulled up snuggly around his shoulders as he hugged a pillow to his chest. Jak caught himself smiling at the sight before the obvious occurred to him.

Why not get back in bed? He blinked at the simplicity of the idea.

The mattress was small, sure, but they had managed to deal with it the night before. He was sure he could fit comfortably. Especially if he just draped an arm over the redhead. So Jak sat down easily on the edge of the mattress. Daxter didn't twitch at the small squeak and dip. Encouraged, the quarterback slid back under the covers as gently as he could.

Oh, hell yes. It was warm enough under the blanket to make Jak shiver at the contrast. Even with the power and "heat" back on, the dorm was chilly. _Damn, if the beds were bigger this might have to become the new permanent sleeping arrangement. We'd never be cold again._

… he would probably never sleep again, either. Jak swallowed harder than usual. He was close enough to smell Daxter's hair again. Feel the heat radiating off the other guy. Slowly, hyperaware of what he was doing in the face of a morning's worth of soul-searching revelation, he put his arm over the redhead's waist and moved close enough that his chest was pressed to Daxter's back. The spark of excitement was immediate.

Oh, yeah. Waking up that morning standing at attention hadn't been a fluke. He wasn't just aroused by someone in his bed. This time he knew very well who he was pressed against, and the flare of impending arousal was more than obvious. Jak smiled at the somehow liberating thought.

Totally normal and legit bi-curious experimentation phase: officially a go.

Under his arm, Daxter shifted with a little murmur. He curled and uncurled languidly, then froze. A sharp gasp confirmed his state of sudden wakefulness. The wide-eyed look he shot Jak over his shoulder a split second later was utterly priceless.

Jak grinned. "Morning, cupcake."

- / - / - / - / -

"Aaaaarghh!" At that point, the freak-out was instinctive. Daxter scrambled madly and bolted—straight into the concrete blocks of the wall with a flurry of flying blankets. The muffled thump that resulted had his ears ringing and his hands clasped tightly over his suddenly aching head. "Oww, fuck!"

Behind him Jak laughed uproariously.

Daxter's ringing ears (and the rest of his face) turned immediately red. Shit-fuck-damn. "Oh, shut the hell up! What're you laughin' at, jerk-wad?"

"Your face!" Jak howled helplessly. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

It was officially time to make a less-than-graceful exit. He scrambled awkwardly over Jak and tripped out of the bed, not stopping until he hit the mini-fridge. "Well excuse me fer bein' a teensy bit surprised! What the hell was that about, anyway?"

The green-blonde sprawled on his back on his rumpled bunk, arms crossed behind his head, smirking. "What was what about?"

"_That!_"

"You mean me getting back in my own bed? Where you just kind of happened to be at the time?"

Oh. Yeah. He had kind of forgotten that tiny little detail. The blush Dax had managed to control after abruptly waking up as the little spoon came back with a vengeance. He had fallen asleep in Jak's bed. _Again._ Apparently he just didn't learn, did he? Inwardly cursing his idiot self with every form of slander he knew, he glanced up from a studious examination of the rug to look his roommate in the eye. "Uh…" Wow, that was smooth.

Jak quirked a perfectly shaped green brow. "Did you sleep alright, at least?"

This was going to be painful. Daxter raked his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. "… yeah, I slept really great." Okay, good start! Keep going! No snark, no snark, no snark. "Thanks, Jak. Fer last night, I mean. I… really owe ya one."

"You don't owe me anything," Jak argued, shaking his head. "I'm just glad I could help a little."

"No, seriously. I kept ya up half the night with a psych ward worthy flip out—"

"Come on, it wasn't that bad."

Daxter threw up his hands in frustration. "Will you hush up an' just accept my damn apology fer actin' like an ass an' treatin' you like crap when you were just tryin' ta help me? Sheesh, what's a guy gotta do ta say he's sorry around here?"

"It's okay, Dax, really. You were upset. I didn't take any of it personally. Forget it. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Like I'd know," was out of his traitorous mouth before he could even register that he'd rolled his eyes. Damn it, no snark!

Jak's ears went down and back—kicked puppy to the max. He looked up from the bunk with those big, blue, sad eyes and Daxter wanted to facepalm.

"Okay, okay, sheesh, yes! That's totally what friends are for, and you are an excellent friend, Jak. And I swear on all that's holy, what happened last night was a one-time thing that I will never, ever pull on you ever again, even if I gotta lock myself in the utility closet next time it storms. Now we're cool and we can put last night firmly behind us, right?"

"Right. Unless you need one more hug?" Jak asked, the playful tone coming back at long last.

Teasing was definitely more within his element. Thank goodness. Dax narrowed his eyes in pretended indignation. "I don't need yer football cooties! Save 'em fer the weasel, thanks. What I need now is breakfast! What time is it, anyway?"

"Uh…" Jak craned his neck, trying to see the clock on his desk from his upside-down position on the bunk. "Eight-thirty."

"Well, hey, that ain't bad. It's not as late as I—" Daxter did a double take. "Hey, why are you even here? Don't ya have class?"

Jak smiled almost sheepishly. "I, uh. Got part of the way there and decided not to go. No big deal."

The redhead stared. Then he hid in the far corner, making the sign of the cross from where he had wedged himself between the wall and chest of drawers. "_You_… skipped _class_? Oh my God, who are you and what did you do ta my fake jock?"

A flying pillow caught him in the face a moment later.

Yep, everything was back to normal.

/ - / - / - / - /

The cafeteria downstairs was less crowded than usual for that time of morning. That could probably be attributed to the theory that everyone was actually in class on the final day of midterm exams. Whatever the reason, it turned out to be an especially serendipitous morning for Daxter: not only did he and Jak get to grab breakfast together on a weekday, but there were also plenty of tater tots left.

Jak stared at him as they found a table and he prepared his plate. "I'm not sure who failed to tell you this when you were a child, Dax, but pancake syrup goes on pancakes. And waffles. Maybe sausage links. Not hash-browns."

Daxter responded with a prompt, if sticky, one finger salute. "Lay off my nutritional choices, blondie. I need sugar fer energy if I'm gonna pass this test later."

"Speaking of midterms!"

The entirely too-cheerful voice directly behind his ear made Dax jump and squeal for the second time in an hour. Syrupy tater tots bounced as he glared over his shoulder at the intruder. "Damn it, Phoenix, would it kill ya ta say 'good morning' like a normal person?"

"Sorry, Daxter." The grin on the running back's face said otherwise. "You're just the gentlemen I wanted to see!"

"Hey, Phoenix. What about midterms, now?" Jak prompted, blowing casually at the steam coming off his coffee.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that everyone has been working entirely too hard getting ready for the bloody things. My ever-charming roommate, in particular. And, since today marks the end of them, I thought we could all use a little relaxation. Therefore, I hereby invite you two to movie night! This evening, our room, be there or be forever uncool and banished from the Sacred Circle of Mateship."

"Relaxin' movie night, huh?" Daxter rescued one of his tots from where it had rolled next to the salt shaker. "What's the movie?"

"It's a surprise!"

Jak laughed. "Enthusiastic much? Okay, I'm in. How about you, Dax?"

The redhead sucked syrup off his knuckles and nodded. "Yeah, sure, why not. Somebody's gotta be yer date. Besides, can't have Phoenix an' Smokey knockin' me down the totem pole of yer friendship, can I?"

"Excellent." Phoenix clapped them both on the shoulder. "I'll see you this evening, then. Just come on over after dinner whenever you'd like. Now then, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find and invite Razer to our little get-together."

"Have fun with that," Dax muttered as Phoenix took his leave. "Razer's just the sweetest dewy flower in the morning, after all. An' in the afternoon. An' all day, really. By that I totally mean he's an asshole of the finest caliber."

"Shut up and eat your tater tots, movie date," Jak chuckled, finishing his coffee.

Daxter blushed rather hotly as he did. Memo to himself—he really needed to watch the stupid things he said. He didn't want Jak to get the wrong idea or anything, after all.

- / - / - / - / -

Chilly morning ripened into chillier afternoon. With Halloween less than two weeks away Jak really shouldn't have been surprised at the cold snap, but he had always been a warm weather kind of guy. With Daxter off to his Spanish midterm, though, the green-blonde was free to lounge and ponder in their marginally warmer room.

Killer dozing in his lap, Jak stared listlessly out the window at what remained of the colorful leaves after the storm from the night before. He had a lot to think about after the past twenty-four hours.

First and foremost on the list: figuring out a way to ask Daxter if he might be up for a little innocent hands-on fun between pals without scaring the redhead senseless in the process.

Earlier that morning he had obviously been flying high on Brand New Concept Airways and gotten too brave too fast because of it. He had managed to forget one very important factor in all of this—Daxter did not like to be touched. He was downright scared of people bigger than himself, though he hid it well. Probably the quickest way Jak could make sure his idea didn't get an inch beyond the idea stage was to try to push physicality on his friend too soon.

So he would wait. That was fine. Jak was a patient guy. He could drop hints in little ways, unobtrusive ways, and when he thought Dax might be warm to the idea he would bring up the notion of—

Jak tried very hard not to think about the details. He wanted to try sex with his male roommate, sure. He did not want to get weird around said roommate and best friend because he couldn't keep his mind off the thought of said hypothetical sex. Just the relatively innocent contact from that morning had him dwelling on eventual possibilities and making it supremely hard to concentrate on anything else.

He drew a hand down Killer's stomach, the ferret sound asleep in an upside-down "U" shape in his lap. Trusting thing. Now, if he could just get Dax to relax enough for a petting like that…

Jak sighed deeply. "You know, little guy, I wish all strays could be as trusting as you."

A sudden knock on the door made the quarterback jump guiltily. He grabbed for Killer before the limp jumble of fur and vertebrae could slide off his lap and cleared his throat hastily. "Y-yeah?"

"Hey there, Jak. Can I come in?"

"Sure, Phoenix. What's up?" He got to his feet, snoozing ferret tucked in the crook of his arm, as his teammate stepped in.

Phoenix looked slightly ruffled. "Sorry to butt in, Jak, but I need to know something. Would it be alright if we swapped movie night out for tomorrow?"

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Not exactly. Something came up that needs my attention, is all. Will that be a problem?"

Jak considered. "I don't think so. I mean, tomorrow's Saturday, so no class. Practice is in the morning and you wanted it to be a movie _night_, so that's no big deal. Dax gets away from Pizza Haven by nine, so I bet he could even bring us some pizza if we wait for him."

"Perfect." Phoenix grinned calculatingly. "And that brings me to my second question. Would you and Daxter be up for a little prank tonight instead?"

"Prank? Huh? What? Who's gettin' pranked? What're we doin'? What'd I miss?" The redhead almost tripped over his own feet as he struggled to get into the room as quickly as possible, eyes wide and ears perked so straight in his intense interest that he looked like a cat going for a laser pointer.

Jak shook his head helplessly as Phoenix took the verbal pouncing in stride, dropping an arm around Daxter's shoulders and laying out a cleverly crafted plot conspiratorially. Whatever else might be going on in his personal life, Jak could honestly say that things at Haven U were never, ever boring.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	10. Chapter 10

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

In the weeks he had been employed by Pizza Haven, Daxter had learned a lot about the business. Unfortunately, since Ximon was the one with the ride and retained his position as delivery boy, Dax hadn't learned how to knock on a door while carrying three extra large pizza boxes. No matter, though. He could improvise.

"Honey, I'm home! And I brought dinner!" He tapped the door in front of him with the toe of his sneaker for good measure.

Said door opened instantly. "Darling, I missed you. Is there pineapple on one of those?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remembered, now lemme in." The door swung wider to let him and his wide cargo of boxes inside. "Where would ya be without me, Jakkie-boy?"

"Hungry and abandoned. But mostly hungry. Come on, let's get over to Phoenix's so we can eat."

Daxter unceremoniously passed the pizzas to his roommate. "Give me a sec! I wanna get out'a these clothes an' into some that don't smell like marinara." There was a sudden sharp tug at the leg of his uniform pants. With a sigh, he bent down to disengage the ferret gnawing on it. "Down, beast! Dunno how many times I gotta tell ya I ain't on the menu. No matter how much I smell like I am."

Jak effortlessly balanced the pizza boxes on one hand and snapped his fingers. "Hey. Killer, stop that. Here." He reached into the topmost box and pulled out a small chunk of sausage. "Killer, treat!"

Immediately there was a ferret climbing the quarterback's leg. Daxter eyed the pitiful scene as he pulled off his sauce-splattered shirt. "Y'know, there's a reason that weasel's the size of a damn tom cat."

"He's a perfectly healthy size and weight for an adult male ferret, thanks." Jak glanced down at the discarded shirt. "Messy shift?"

"Ha. Don't even get me started. Apparently it was 'take yer poorly trained, highly disruptive family out ta dinner' night. Taryn finally had ta tell the last couple that she'd throw 'em out if their brat didn't quit flingin' pepperoni at the windows. You'll never guess who had ta clean _that_ up. Anyway." Freshly attired, he was ready to go. "And Daxter said, let it be movie night! Got any idea what we're watchin' yet?"

"No clue. Phoenix didn't say. He looked awfully smug at practice this morning, though."

"He prob'ly got laid last night. Any of the cheer squad walkin' funny today?"

One halfhearted swat to the back of the head later and the two of them were knocking on their neighbors' door. Dax shifted the pizza boxes nervously. "Ya think Razer's still mad about yesterday?"

"Nah." Jak smiled confidently. "He's a little uptight, but he's an okay guy. Besides, he doesn't know it was you who stole his clothes from the showers."

The door opened abruptly to a less-than-pleased set of green eyes. "Well, I certainly do now, don't I?"

_Oh, shit!_ Daxter's ears fell. _Way to go, Jak._

The quarterback in question just grinned amiably. "Hey, Razer. No hard feelings, right?"

Razer snorted. "If I held a grudge over every immature underclassmen prank pulled on me since I have moved in here I would not be on speaking terms with half of this hall. Also I am in a markedly better mood today, so I will let it go. But I _will_ say that the next time you choose to remove every stitch of clothing that I own from my room and my possession, no matter what madman goads you to the task, my retaliation will be swift and unpleasant." His eyes narrowed on Daxter. "Especially you, you little rat. Making my way back from the showers with only a half towel to preserve my modesty was decidedly less than enjoyable."

The redhead gulped nervously, once again grateful for Jak's larger presence at his side. "Uh, yeah, duly noted. But would it help if I said I brought ya a really choice vegetarian pizza? Thin crust, heavy on the veggies, light on the mozz? Phoenix said ya like 'em that way."

There was a long moment of silence through which the aroma of cooling pizza wafted. Then Razer stepped back and beckoned them inside. "I suppose it would be rude to leave you standing in the hall when you've been invited. Come in."

Phoenix was already in high spirits when they stepped inside. "Good to see you, boys! What can I pour you? There's only beer and cola tonight, I'm afraid. And there's one cooler left. It seems midterms have temporarily cut my supply lines, dratted things."

"Because Jinx has to grade papers this week and do some actual work?" Jak muttered, rolling his eyes. "And he didn't have time to do booze runs for his underage students?"

"Ignore him, Phoenix, he's a spoil sport. I want one'a the beers!" Daxter was suddenly much more enthusiastic about the evening. Beer and a movie; what a great way to spend a Saturday night!

So drinks were dispersed. Paper plates were handed out. Pizzas were divided. Finally, movie time arrived.

Daxter found himself on the floor next to Jak, their backs braced against the edge of the bunk beds by a giant beanbag that had to belong to Phoenix. It was surprisingly comfortable. With a bottle in his hand and pineapple pizza in his lap, he felt ready for anything.

"So, what are we watching?" Jak asked.

"Is it porn?" Dax chimed in hopefully. He got an elbow in the ribs from Jak which he was obliged to return, and in moments they were shoving and sniggering like ten-year-olds at a slumber party.

Phoenix popped open a DVD case and fed the disc into the player. "Not quite. This was actually my favorite film when I was a boy, and I'm still very fond of it. I think you'll enjoy it." He pressed a button, hit the lights, and dove into the bottom bunk next to Razer. "Shove over, mate. There's room for two up here, you know."

"Watch yourself," came the sour reply. "I'll thank you to keep your crumbs out of my bed."

"Oh, yes. Can't have a mess in your bed, can you?" The running back growled playfully, a slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth.

Razer flicked his ears back, but the ghost of a smile danced across his shadowed face for just a moment before he planted a palm against Phoenix's forehead and shoved him away. "Idiot."

Daxter watched the exchange over his shoulder for a moment, the images made a bit surreal by the dim light of the small TV screen. Razer really did seem like he was in a better mood—not only since yesterday, but almost better than the redhead had ever seen. He seemed to be enjoying himself, which was enough to qualify as a small miracle. Huh. Phoenix must have found a way to chill him out after all. If that was the case, Phoenix needed to be nominated for sainthood.

Then the movie began to play, and Daxter's attention was firmly turned back to the screen. "Seriously, Phoenix? Yer makin' us watch a cartoon?"

"It's not a cartoon, it's an anime," Phoenix corrected. "A very good one, by a very talented and famous director. It has superb action, humor, and a very entertaining plot. Give it a chance."

"Hey, I think I might have seen one of this guy's movies before," Jak said. He had leaned forward and was studying the animation. His ears were perked curiously. "A long time ago. Was there one about this big grey animal that lived in a tree? And there was a bus that was alive and looked like a cat—"

"Yes, yes, that's the same director. Now shush and watch. You'll miss the plot."

Daxter rolled his eyes and turned back to the movie. He was zero percent surprised a moment later when an unrealistically huge airplane with a few hundred too many propellers appeared, followed shortly by a squadron of air pirates in fantastic flying crafts. God. Phoenix was such a steampunk geek. Was the football team secretly composed entirely of nerds in disguise or something?

Surprisingly, though, by the time crust was all that was left of his pizza Daxter was starting to get into the movie. There was a girl who had been kidnapped, as befitted any epic fantasy piece. She was being chased by the military and pirates both, twice as many bad guys as usual. The poor kid was alone and scared—who wouldn't be, really?—but she was brave. And then she met a boy who stood up for her and they were friends from moment one, and then she wasn't alone anymore. There were exciting chases, magical stones, and scenery that was actually really awesomely impressive even if it was a cartoon—uh, anime.

At some undetermined point in the plot, when it looked like the kids might go their separate ways, Dax realized with a start that he was leaning pretty heavily up against Jak. He jumped a little when it hit him that his head was on the quarterback's shoulder and Jak's arm was half way around him. Wait. What the. When had that happened? What were they, on a movie date?

But Jak's attention was on the screen, not on his clinging roommate, and he didn't seem to notice anything wrong with how they were piled together, so Daxter tried to relax and go with the flow. Impromptu dude cuddle? He could get behind that. Especially considering how nice it had been to sleep in Jak's bunk a couple nights ago—

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out. That sounded so wrong. He could feel his cheeks heating up at the thought. It wasn't like he had a _thing_ for Jak, or anything. Totally no. Of course not.

… he'd never admit it to the big guy, though, but he did kinda like it a lot when they would pal around all close like that. He had Jak's companionship, his laughs and his fist bumps, what so many others wanted and didn't have. He felt like he was staking a claim on the green-blonde, and it wasn't being disputed.

Dax huffed silently at himself at the thought, his face growing hotter. He was thankful for the Phoenix-imposed lights out. _Okay, me, let's get one thing straight right the hell now. Just 'cuz I admire the fake jock like "whoa, hello, you are the awesome-est person I know an' it thrills me shitless that you seem ta think I'm a worthy specimen of humanity on which ta bestow yer attention," that does NOT mean I need ta cling all over him like one'a the groupies that freak him out so much. Consider me lectured, me._

The issue firmly settled, Daxter turned his brain back to the task at hand. It really was turning out to be a great movie after all.

Then, smack in the middle of the climactic ending, he made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. It was a quick, spastic glance, his mouth wide open to ask Phoenix a plot question and probably get hushed for it—but then he shut it with a snap.

Holy hell. Phoenix and Razer were cuddling, too.

The two were braced against the wall that backed the bunks, but they were also leaning heavily against each other's sides. Razer in particular looked moments from dozing off, normally sharp green eyes gazing out of focus at the TV. His head lolled against Phoenix, who, even as Daxter looked on in covert shock, turned his own head a bit and rubbed his cheek affectionately against the older guy's hair.

Something inside the redhead told him instinctively that he was not supposed to be witnessing whatever it was he had just witnessed. He snapped his head forward again and dropped his ears, trying to unobtrusively sink down out of their line of sight. Odds are he hadn't been noticed, but it was better safe than sorry.

Okay. Wow. That was totally more than a dude-cuddle. It had to be. Daxter's ears turned red in the dark as he suddenly recalled how the two of them had been spooned up on the rug the morning after the homecoming game. At the time he had laughed about it, but now…

_Shit. I always figured Razer was prob'ly gay, but I didn't think Phoenix would… he doesn't act like… shit, football players ain't gay! Jocks beat up gay kids! _This was crazy. Absolutely crazy. Like, it wasn't any of his business, but still. It was kind of blowing his mind.

Obviously, the only logical thing to do was keep his lips laced tighter than a Victorian's corset and pretend he had seen nothing. Not that he was opposed to such goings on between consenting-type people, but it really was none of his beeswax. And if the two of them never let on that they were more than ordinary roommates, then it was almost a certainty that they were keeping whatever was going on between them under wraps. Who knows what would happen if Dax let on that he suspected something was up?

_Just ferget it. It never happened. Movie movie movie movie. _

Unfortunately, he was just in time to miss the ending.

As the credits rolled, there was a rustle behind them. "Well? How did you like it?" Phoenix asked as he extracted himself from the bottom bunk and turned on the lights. "It wasn't all that terrible, was it?"

"Not bad," Razer allowed in an unconsciously lazy tone. "If that was your favorite childhood film, I can certainly see why your head is always in the clouds."

The pony-tailed man casually flipped him off.

"I liked it," Jak said with honest eyes and an open smile—the kind that made Daxter sure that the green-blonde was oblivious to how sickeningly sweet and sincere he came off sometimes. He shifted and stretched, and Daxter quickly pulled away from his side. "Sometimes it's nice to watch something with a happy ending like that. Let go of real life for a little while. Did you like it, Dax?"

"Yeah, it was okay." The redhead shrugged nonchalantly, determined to play it cool despite the flip-flop feeling in his stomach. "Fer a cartoon."

"Anime!" the other three corrected in chorus.

"Okay, okay, sheesh!"

Razer slithered out of the bunk, blinking almost owlishly in the light. His usually perfect hair was mussed (possibly by Phoenix-cheek). "Well. Engaging as this all has been, I'm afraid that I must excuse myself to prepare for bed."

A glance at the clock and Dax huffed. It was barely even midnight. Razer could just suck it right up, because this fun-filled hangout wasn't over until—

Jak pushed himself off the floor and dumped his paper plate in the trashcan. "Sorry, Razer. We'll get out of your hair."

Daxter gaped.

"Thanks for indulging me on this, you two." Phoenix was all smiles as he courteously opened the door, presumably for them to run along their merry way. "Hopefully you enjoyed it as much as I did. And hopefully everyone's a bit more relaxed after a little flight of fancy, if you'll mind the pun."

"It was great. We'll have to do it again sometime. I wouldn't mind seeing some more of that director's movies. See you later, guys." With a nod to Razer, Jak led the way out.

And that was how Daxter found himself back in his own room in utter shock at what had just happened. "Jak, for real! What just happened there?"

Jak's ears perked in confusion. "What?"

"That's what I'm askin'! It's not even _late_ yet! We totally could'a hung out with Phoenix in the common room. We could'a asked him if he wanted ta go down ta the coffee shop. We could'a done anything! But we didn't, 'cause Razer said he's sleepy. And now here we are, fun-less. Why is that, Jak?"

Blue eyes rolled to the paneled ceiling. "Probably because Phoenix was tired, too."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"Because we were both out on the field this morning at eight. I know he's tired because I'm tired. If the movie hadn't been good I probably would have fallen asleep during it."

Dax smirked. "And drooled all over yerself, no doubt."

Jak threw a mostly empty bag of ferret treats at him. "My point being, it would have been rude if we stayed. He wasn't going to ask us to leave, so us going on our own was, y'know. Polite."

The redhead stared at him blankly. "Dude. Fun-boner kill."

"Hey!"

"I totally buy that yer uncle is an aging aristocratic gentleman, 'cause that old-fashioned stuff rubbed off on you like a frustrated poodle on a mailman's leg."

The look on Jak's face was absolutely priceless, and Daxter burst out laughing despite himself. Then the quarterback lunged. Dax yelled and bolted, slinging a pillow off the bunk in self defense as he did, but of course it was a lost fight before it even began. In the small room, there was nowhere to run. Jak had him down in seconds, thrashing on the rug as fingers mercilessly tickled his ribs and stomach.

"Say 'I'm sorry, Jak.'"

"Nn—nah—n-never!" Daxter howled, trying unsuccessfully to roll into a ball.

Shit, he loved this. He loved the pretended outrage that was totally trounced by the maniacal grin on Jak's face. He loved how the big guy never pinned him down, never grabbed his wrists or his hands, never went near his neck. He never felt afraid or needed to get away from Jak. Tickle-tackles were purely for fun.

It went on for almost a full minute. Just as Dax had managed to get a foot against Jak's chest and use the leverage to propel himself backward across the floor in a bid to squirm underneath the bunks, there was a thunderous rattle as a fist met their door.

"I don't know what the hell you idiots are doing in there and frankly I don't care, but shut the hell up! It's past midnight!" Torn yelled.

"Bite me, big shot!" Daxter yelled back. "It's a weekend! Get a life along with yer next tattoo!"

Jak's hand landed over the redhead's mouth, effectively stifling him. "Shit, Torn, sorry!"

"Sorry is what I _won't_ be if I have to come in there and kick your asses! Go the fuck to sleep—or don't, whatever, but be quiet!" The RA stomped off down the hallway muttering, leaving thick silence behind.

Finding his mouth free again, Dax grinned. "I still think yer no fun," he said in a very loud stage whisper.

Jak rolled his eyes and stood up, letting him off the floor. "You would."

Daxter got to his feet and stretched. His mouth was dry from laughing so hard. It had been a week or two since he had provoked Jak to poke at him for so long. "Seriously, though, Jakkie-boy. What did ya ever do fer fun out in the country like you were? I'd hate ta think ya spent every weekend bored as hell, so I'm gonna hafta imagine really super activities like cow tipping, butter churning, an' stealin' watermelons out'a the neighbors' gardens."

"I'll admit to two out of the three. You guess which one's the odd one out."

Dax was ready with a slew of falsely sympathetic comments, but he was cut off when Jak hummed in amusement.

"I guess you're right. Living in the country can get pretty boring. I guess that's why me and Keira had to have as much sex as we did. It was either have sex each and every weekend or die of boredom. Actually I don't know how we survived."

The silence that fell was so thick the last of the crickets on the lawn outside that hadn't been bumped off by the frost yet could be heard. Daxter's mouth fell open. "… like literally every weekend? Really?"

"And a lot of weeknights."

"Bull! How the hell could ya pull that off without gettin' busted, even if yer uncle does sleep heavy? Law of averages says ya get caught sometimes!"

"One of those reasons it's boring in the country—when your uncle is a well-known photojournalist and self-proclaimed adventurer explorer, he's gone a lot. A whole lot. If Keira hadn't slept over so much I don't know what I would have done. Probably would have lost my mind."

Daxter swallowed hard. Sometimes he could completely forget that Jak wasn't just an ordinary dweeb like himself, but other times, like now, he got slapped upside the face with a reminder that Jak was, in fact, one of the cool kids. The kind that had girlfriends. The kind that had sex. Not just got lucky enough to have sex once and consider that enough for bragging rights, but had sex on a regular basis.

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, well. If ya ain't lyin' like a rug, then it's a damn wonder ya haven't lost yer mind since ya came _here_. Goin' from sex all the damn time ta runnin' away from cheerleaders who want it must be a pretty big leap." He did not sound bitter. He did not.

Killer oozed out from behind the storage cabinet, cobwebs in his whiskers. The green-blonde gathered him up off the floor and flopped backwards into his desk chair. "I won't lie, it has been a little weird. And kind of frustrating sometimes, I guess. But I'm still not bored. I've got an awesome pet and the loudest roommate in the universe. What's better than that?"

"Oh, totally. Animals and roommates are absolutely better than sex," Dax snarked. But now he had an image in his head that wouldn't go away.

Instead of a ferret draped out over Jak's torso, cobwebby nose twitching contentedly against his sternum, Dax could definitely see how a human body could rest nicely there. He watched, mesmerized, as the quarterback's hands roamed over Killer; starting out cupped over his ears, then moving firmly down the stretched out spine until they reached the tip of his tail. Killer chattered softly and rolled, entirely trusting. Dax didn't realize he was staring until Jak noticed.

A green brow rose. "What?"

"Nothin'!" His voice went high on a squeak that he immediately regretted immensely. Of course, he couldn't button his lip after just that. Oh no. "Just, jeez, pal, I know ya miss yer girlfriend, but you are practically _molesting_ that damn ferret."

Jak stared back for a few long seconds. Then his lips turned slightly upward. "Jealous much, Dax?"

He hated how flustered he was getting, but he couldn't hold back the indignant huff. "Hell no, I'm not jealous of yer ferret!"

Jak's smiled only widened. "I meant jealous of me, for having a girl."

"… I knew that. And why the hell wouldn't I be jealous of you getting all yer oodles of sex? Not like I have any idea what that's even _like_, but still—" Oh. Did he just admit shameful virginity to his really cool jock roommate? Well, fuck. Fuck his idiot brain. Fuck his idiot mouth that never paused to collaborate with his idiot brain. Fuck his raging blush. Fuck his life. Fuck everything. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Jak's teasing smile disappeared and his face fell. "You're really going to bed?"

Since he had changed clothes before the movie, Daxter didn't bother with the ceremonial nightly wardrobe dive for a clean shirt to wear to bed. He just grabbed the bunk ladder and climbed. "Yep. Humiliating myself once per evening ought'a be enough. Better hit the sack while I'm ahead."

"Come on, Dax, don't be like that. You're not humiliated."

"Says you." He flopped face first into the pillow with a deep sigh, the fabric cool against his flushed face.

Jak moved closer, easily able to see over the top of the bunk. "Seriously, it's not a big deal. I mean it. There's nothing wrong with being a virgin."

"Number one: I repeat, says the guy who ain't one. Number two: I dunno about you an' Farmland, but where I come from it's hella lame ta get ta Sophomore year of high school still sportin' the big V, let alone all the way ta _college_. Now, on that note, I am completely ready ta cap this convo an' sleep." Daxter rolled irritably to face the wall. A squirm and a well-placed foot pulled his blanket up from the foot of the mattress.

There was a sigh from below as Jak appeared to admit defeat. "Alright. Ignore me. That's fine. I should be sleeping anyway."

Feeling that he had won the battle, Dax closed his eyes and tried to make good on the threat of sleep. But now that he was here, sleep wasn't happening. There was too much going on in his head. He was still shell-shocked over the Phoenix-Razer cuddle thing, for one, and then with that disastrous conversation with Jak…

He was still hot and uncomfortable, and—oh, fuck. He couldn't get that image of Jak and his mechanic girl out of his mind.

_Ain't my fault. Stupid fake jock, lookin' all like a porn star,_ he growled to himself. _So does his girl. 'Course that'd look good. S'not weird ta think that. Anybody'd think that._

Unfortunately for him, all the logic in the world couldn't get rid of the most common physical reaction to images resembling porn. Whatever the reason for it, there was now a semi-serious problem going on under the sheets. One that he couldn't do a damn thing about, because the indirect cause of weird boners was fooling around on the bunk directly below him.

_Fuck you, Jak. Fuck you an' yer ferret._ Dax closed his eyes tightly and buried his face further into his pillow. _How freakin' fantastic would it be ta be able ta jerk off in peace? Just once. Just once is all I'm askin'. Just one time when no one walks in or I freak out 'case I think someone's gonna walk in. _He pressed ever so slightly into the blankets, but—not that he had expected any differently—all the move brought was continued discomfort and the need to do more.

"Okay, two things. Then I'll shut up for real."

Jak's voice jolted Daxter back into focus and he froze instantly. Arousal or not, there was no way he was going to so much as shift against those sheets again with his roommate still awake. He had more self-control than that. "Jeez, fine! What is it?"

"First, I don't care what you say. There's nothing wrong with being a virgin. I would still be a virgin if Keira hadn't crawled through my window one night while I was trying to jerk off and decided it would be a great idea to extend our friendship into benefits."

_Like any sane girl would,_ Dax thought. _Guys don't come much hotter than Jak—uh, objectively speakin'._

"And second… I just remembered this. There's a big party on frat row Halloween night. Wanna go?"

That made the redhead perk up a little. He hung his head over the edge of the bunk to look down at Jak. "A party? And yer goin'? What has come over you, fakest of the fake jocks?"

Jak swung up at him with a pillow and missed. "Shut up. The whole team's going. I missed the party after Homecoming last month. If I miss this one I'll be excommunicated. Besides, this one actually sounds like fun. It's a Halloween party, right? Everybody will have costumes. We can hang out for a while, throw some toilet paper in some trees, have a few drinks, run from the police when they show up."

"So this is a full scale college party in the frat houses. And yer inviting me."

"Yeah. I won't lie—it will really, really suck if you don't come with me. Phoenix is all about this thing. He's already got his costume and everything. But the guy is like a damn hummingbird at social functions. He wouldn't stay with me if I put him on a toddler harness and leash."

Daxter grinned. "Good point. I guess ya do kinda need a wingman ta keep yer fake jock-ness out'a trouble if the cheerleaders show up."

Jak grinned back. "That, too. I'm hoping to get a costume so great no one will know who I am."

"That's cheating."

"All is fair in love, war, and cheerleader evasion." Jak stood up from his bunk and stretched. "Anyway, I'm gonna go get a shower. Will you be awake to let me back in when I'm done or do I need to bring my keys?"

Dax pretended to mull the question over. "Yeah, I'll probably still be up, an' if not I'll just be nappin', so a knock'll wake me up pretty quick. Don't drown yerself in there, champ."

"I'll do my best with that." Jak rolled his eyes, gathered his supplies, and left.

In his bunk, the redhead curled into his blankets and sighed. _I guess this hero worship thing's worse than I thought. But I can't freakin' help it! Jak's… Jak's just JAK. _He allowed himself a smile. _Least I wasn't thinkin' about Phoenix an' Razer anymore. _His eyes drifted shut as his brain finally began to quiet. Newly relaxed, his body settled limply into the sheets. _Yeah. It's all cool. I just like 'im. Like Jak a lot. Yeah…_

Five minutes later, despite persistent knocking on the door as his roommate tried unsuccessfully to gain re-entry, Daxter slept on unconcernedly. He dreamed of searching through Halloween costumes and dressing up as a mechanic for the party Jak had promised.

/ - / - / - / - /

To be continued.


	11. Chapter 11

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

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"Could you at least have waited until we get back to our rooms to put that on?"

"In a word—no."

Jak laughed as Phoenix strutted past with his long leather coat swirling behind him. He was in too good of a mood to give his teammate a hard time about putting on his spectacularly steampunk Halloween costume straight out of the post-game showers.

The evening's game, a simple exhibition to fill the gap between the end of the regular season and the playoffs that the Haven Warriors had already qualified for, had gone almost flawlessly. Jak couldn't have hoped for more from his first season on the university field. Their inclusion in the playoffs had won over the last steadfast objectors to a freshman leading the team, too, making it doubly sweet.

Jak and Phoenix laughed and talked all the way back to the dorm. The chill winds that had been whipping the campus had taken a lull that night, and a giant golden moon was rising above the nearly leafless trees. A perfect night for a little fun and mischief. For the first time in a long time, Jak found himself excited for a party. This one was going to be fun. He could sense it.

"I'm going to drop off my things and text Razer to make sure he hasn't set fire to his costume," Phoenix grinned as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. "Meet in front of the Lambda Iota Tau house in half an hour. Can't wait to see your costumes, mate!" And with that he was off, breezing down the hall in a way that definitely would have gotten him cussed at if Torn hadn't already been hiding in his wardrobe from the shenanigans that would surely result when Halloween and a Friday night coincided.

The quarterback chuckled as he pulled his keys out of his gym bag. He and Daxter would have to hurry into their own costumes if they wanted to make it on time.

"Sheesh, pal, where ya been? We're gonna be late!"

Luckily and unluckily, Daxter was already in his costume. Luckily, because it would save them time. Unluckily, because Jak was caught so far off guard that he actually fumbled and dropped his keys when he got sight of his roommate's chosen outfit, one that had been strategically concealed until that very moment.

He laughed helplessly. "You little asshole."

Daxter was dressed as a football player. The costume wasn't nearly as well made as the team's real uniforms and had obviously come off the department store rack, but unless you started looking at seams it wouldn't be fair to quibble. Plastic shoulder pads and a helmet topped off the ensemble. The get-up was even in the school colors of black and yellow. This had obviously been planned in advance.

"Yeah, yeah. I know I look awesome." The redhead smiled smugly behind the flimsy plastic face guard and polished his knuckles against the front of his jersey. "It's okay, Jak, you can say it. I'm the awesomest fake jock ever ta fake jockness."

The green-blonde bent to grab his keys off the floor, effectively breaking the stare he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Sorry, Dax, did you say something? I was so caught up in wondering when you went and joined the peewee football team that I—" The helmet came sailing at his head and Jak batted it out of the air easily, laughing all the while.

Daxter's face was red under a mutinous pout. "Get yer costume on, smart-ass. I'm not gonna be late fer this shindig!"

"Okay, okay." Jak dropped his gym bag and crossed to his wardrobe, where the costume he had thrown together the night before was stashed. "Seriously, though. You look fine. But I could have loaned you my uniform, you know. Would have saved you some money."

"Are you kiddin'? I wouldn't go near yer gear right after a game! You guys sweat like horses out on that field, don't try an' deny it." He laid his ears back irritably and grumbled under his breath. "B'sides. It wouldn't fit me anyway."

Jak wisely sealed his lips together to keep another round of sniggering at bay. It wasn't his fault Daxter was small enough that he probably would have fit into an actual kids' size if not for his legs, which were actually pretty long. If his whole body had just been scaled proportionately bigger, he would have easily been taller than Jak.

"Okay, give me a hand with this stuff, huh?" The quarterback unceremoniously dumped his bag of costume components across the dresser. "These fake teeth have some sort of adhesive that goes with them."

As he had figured, Daxter perked up at the request for assistance, and inside of ten minutes Jak was likewise costumed and ready to go.

Dax tilted his head curiously. "Not bad, big guy. But, uh… what're ya supposed ta be?"

Jak looked into the large mirror over the dresser and shrugged. "Some kind of demon, I guess? I just thought the wig was cool and grabbed it." It was bright white and shaggy, falling just past his own hair, and two long, black, sharply pointed horns spiraled out from the top. He had tied a brown headband across it and smeared his face and arms with gray makeup to match the clawed monster gloves that went with the wig. A generic horror outfit of shredded brown rags made up the rest. "Do my teeth look okay?" He bared the false fangs at Daxter and growled as threateningly as he could.

He got an enthusiastic thumbs up in return. "Looks A-okay ta me, pal! Now let's get a move on before Phoenix beats us there an' drinks all the liquor."

Jak couldn't deny that he did have something of a valid concern. So he took one last look in the mirror, grabbed his keys and phone, and followed Daxter out the door. And as he did, he happened to notice something he couldn't help but suspect he would have been better off not noticing.

That costume, fake uniform or no, made Daxter's ass look great.

He stared at it as he trailed after his chattering roommate, finally at peace with his desire to do so. _Damn. I guess it's a good thing he's not really on the team. I'd fumble the ball every time he ran past me._

Then, just as they were stepping into the elevator, Jak had an amazing idea. His common sense fell down the shaft and he gave in to the sudden compulsion. As the doors slid shut behind them he darted out a hand and smacked the redhead firmly on the ass.

"Oww!" Daxter yelled, jumping like he'd been shot and grabbing the offended area a split second later. "What the hell was that for?!" he demanded, looking up at Jak in shock.

Jak just laughed loudly. "If you're gonna be on the team, you're gonna have to get used to our jockly customs. That was the first one."

"If the second one's an atomic wedgie—scratch that, if it's a wedgie of any kind—prepare ta lose those fake teeth." Daxter planted his back steadfastly against the wall of the elevator, suspicious eyes trained on Jak, until they reached the lobby. Thereupon, he promptly forgot any indignities to his person in favor of dashing out the door, chattering excitedly at the top of his lungs.

The quarterback just chuckled and followed him out. Even if the rest of the night completely bombed, it would still be worth it. He could only hope that the next time his hand met that ass, the two would be able to get better acquainted.

- / - / - / - / -

"Race car driver? 'Cuz everyone knows how hard it is ta make left turns all day."

An ebony brow arched haughtily. "At least I can make those turns. Even as a fake, you're still lacking something of a credible talent."

"Stuck up asshole—!" Big hands descended with great finality on Daxter's shoulders, steering him firmly away from Razer before any more words could be exchanged. Very reluctantly, he let himself be led.

"Come _on_, Dax. Let's go grab some snacks." Jak glanced back to grin at Phoenix. "Have fun, guys. I'm sure we'll see you around."

The redhead grumbled as he was led away across the massive common room, almost forgetting the excitement of the party swirling around them in his annoyance. "If we do see 'em around I'm _turnin'_ around an' goin' the other way. What is _with_ that guy?"

"Forget it. That's just how he is. You're just how you are. You guys clash like oncoming semis."

Daxter's ears drooped. "I don't try ta—"

"I know you don't," Jak assured. "Don't worry about it. Some people just don't get along, is all. You two are like… fire and ice. You're the fire, obviously." Jak's gloved hand rapped playfully at the side of his helmeted head. "Now let's find out where they're hiding the drinks. I know that's half the reason you're here."

It was impossible not to smile. "You know me too well, big guy."

Their way was fraught with peril—raucously loud music, a malfunctioning bubble machine throwing sparks along with bubbles, an alarming number of students in varying states of drunkenness, and half the cheer squad that Jak had to hide from by pulling his wig down almost completely over his eyes—but in due course they reached the kitchen. As they pushed the swinging door in, the aroma of hot pizza wafted out. And there, smack in the middle of a small crowd of drinking, laughing partygoers, Ximon was costumed as a giant pizza slice. He was dancing the Funky Chicken.

Daxter put on the brakes so fast Jak ran into his back. "Ximon?!"

The blonde glanced up at him confusedly. "Dude?"

Dax pulled off his plastic helmet. "Dude!"

Ximon's eyes widened in sudden recognition and he smiled widely. "Oh! Duuuude!"

Jak facepalmed, nearly taking his own eye out with the hard claws on his monster gloves. "Oh my God. Could you guys not do that? Please? My brain takes it as a direct threat to its existence."

Totally ignoring his roommate for the time being, Daxter put his fists on his hips and grinned. "When are you supposed ta be back at work? 'Cause if you've been shootin' the shit here more than five minutes Taryn's gonna kill ya."

Ximon shrugged his pepperoni-padded shoulders. "Nah, dude, it's all chill. I've only been here for—" He glanced down at his watch and blanched the color of new mozzarella. "Oh no, dudes! Hate to run, but I gotta kick my posterior into gear-ior. Laters!"

Jak stared as the delivery boy made a hasty retreat totally at odds with his normally laid-back attitude. "He acts like your boss will be waiting for him dressed up as the Grim Reaper."

Dax grinned and helped himself to a handful of chips hidden among the towers of Pizza Haven boxes—he was really starting to get tired of pizza. "Replace her scythe with a pizza cutter an' you'd be about right."

"Sounds like my kind'a doll."

Jak's head jerked up at the gritty voice, and Daxter looked back over his shoulder curiously as the door of an extra-large refrigerator swung shut and the man who had been rummaging in it came into view. There, holding a tray over his head, stood a dirty-blonde with a ponytail. He wore combat boots, a red Rambo bandana, and what looked like a bandolier of dynamite sticks.

Jak groaned. "Oh, God no. You're here, too?"

"It's the biggest party of the semester, blondie-babe! Where else would I be?"

The nickname startled a laugh out of Daxter even as Jak angled his ears back and glowered from under his shaggy wig.

The new blonde shifted the tray to his other hand and lowered the first to shake Daxter's. "Hey there, Red. I'm Jinx. I don't think we've had the pleasure."

"I'm Daxter," he said, grinning despite himself. "I'm Jak's roommate. And might I say, I have heard _so_ much about you."

"All good things, right? Blondie wouldn't talk bad about his favorite teacher, would he?"

Jak threw up his hands in frustration. "Okay, Jinx, seriously, you're not a teacher! You're a grad student instructing a class for credit and doing a piss poor job with that!" He was ignored by both parties.

Daxter glanced up at the tray Jinx still held. "I heard you bring the booze, an' that's enough proof fer me ta think yer cool." He lifted up on his tiptoes for a peek. "What'cha got there?"

"Y'know, I think I kinda like you, Red. Have one!" The tray was whisked down with a flourish.

The redhead was entirely unprepared for what he was offered. Suddenly a grid of colors was spread before him; a rainbow of tiny, liquid-filled plastic cups lined the tray like a Candy Land game board. He gawked.

"Jello shots, huh." Jak didn't sound surprised as he glanced up at Jinx. "You know you could get in serious trouble for this, right? Giving minors alcohol? And undergrads in the classes you instruct, on top of that." But he was obviously fighting an exasperated smile as he said it.

"You know what they say, Blondie. You're only in trouble if ya get caught. And no one's gonna rat me out, now, are they?"

"I'll take it to the grave, man, I swear!" Daxter grabbed a green shot off the tray before Jinx could change his mind. "Do these really taste like Jello?"

Jak took a cup full of red. "They taste better. Thanks, Jinx. I won't know where you are when the cops show up."

"You're a prince, Jak." Jinx hoisted his tray. "Well, gentlemen, enjoy. I've got a lot'a distribution to do. Dancing's in the front room and on the back patio, I'd advise against using the bathroom here—go next door for that, trust me—and if ya happen to wander upstairs for any reason then for the love'a God don't open any bedroom doors. Have fun, now." Then he was gone, breezing out the kitchen door into the swirling melee beyond.

Unreasonable happiness swelled. Daxter's smile was a mile wide as he held up and prepared to down his first Jello shot. "This is amazing! I can't believe I'm really at a real party!"

Jak's costume fangs flashed. "Start believing it so we can go enjoy it, huh?" He held up his own cup. "To stuff we'll probably regret in the morning."

"Hell yeah!" On impulse Daxter reached out and looped his arm through Jak's. They both raised their cups, the first of many that night if he had anything to say about it.

Halloween was off to a great start.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak was enjoying himself. To his own amazement and happiness, Jak was actually enjoying himself at a party. He credited that mostly to the redhead leaning against him, weak-kneed with laughter and a few too many Jello shots.

Whatever his reservations around the "jock flock" when he was sober, Daxter loosened up beautifully under the influence. Jak had introduced him to the rest of the team—despite the redhead's protests before the alcohol had a chance to set in—and within the hour Dax was the life of the party. He did most of the talking, Jak only interjecting a word or two here and there, and had whoever happened to be listening in stitches more often than not.

Currently, though, it was Dax himself who couldn't stop laughing. "C-can ya believe we actually had that guy thinkin' I was really on'a team? That was great!"

Jak grinned. "Well, Mog never was the sharpest cleat on the field. Nice guy, great defense, not so quick on the uptake. If he didn't have Jinx looking out for him he might not live 'til the weekend."

"Heeey. Speakin'a Jinx." Daxter propped himself up against Jak's side to look around the crowded room blearily. "I think I wanna 'nother Jello thingy."

"Another one? Don't you think you've had enough?" Jak asked amusedly.

Knowing how much Daxter enjoyed the drinking aspect of the party scene, the quarterback had purposefully stayed mostly sober. He didn't mind being the responsible one and keeping an eye on his friend. Alcohol wasn't the crucial ingredient needed to have a good time, after all. So he had mentally kept track of everything Dax managed to get his hands on and tried to coax some water and juice into the redhead between stronger drinks.

"C'mon, Jak, just one more. Pleeeease?"

Jak considered the request. The smaller guy was already drunk, no doubt about it. He wasn't slurring or staggering, though, and Jak was hopeful that the hangover the next morning wouldn't be too terribly bad. Besides. Dax was having such a good time. "Well… okay. One more. But then I'm cutting you off for real, alright?"

"Deal!" Daxter agreed happily. He smiled up at Jak like the green-blonde had just told him he had won the lottery. His costume helmet had disappeared somewhere. Red-cheeked, ears flushed, hair ruffled, eyes bright, he looked—

Jak jerked himself back to reality. "Uh, I'll go find Jinx. You just stick around here and… uh, look for your helmet. Yeah."

"Sure thing, Jakkie-boy. Can't be a fake jock without my helmet!"

Flustered, Jak hustled off in the direction he had last seen Jinx. Good lord. He would have to be careful about that. He couldn't let Daxter get whatever he wanted just because there was a man-crush going on. Even if he _was_ really cute.

Directed by several helpfully—if none too steadily—pointed fingers, Jak found himself back in the kitchen. Most of the food had long since been pillaged, and the kegs were in the common room, so he wasn't all that surprised to see the room deserted. Nor was he surprised that the back door was standing half open. People had been running in and out all night, back and forth between the houses of Frat Row. Still looking for his wayward instructor, Jak moved to the open door. One look outside, though, and he stopped cold.

Jinx stood on the back steps under the glow of a streetlight, nose to nose with a police officer.

Jak instinctively ducked back behind the cover of the kitchen door, heartbeat spiked as a nasty surge of adrenaline overcame what little buzz he'd managed to get going. _Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. _

His thoughts were racing so fast he couldn't settle on one before the next came. How had the cops managed to show up so quietly? How had no one noticed? Did he have time to find Daxter before the rest of the squad appeared to shake down the entire party? In the back of his mind he had always known that what they were doing was not only against the rules set out by Haven U, it was downright against the law. And while any instance of underage drinking would almost assuredly be swept under the proverbial rug when the football team was involved, regular students wouldn't be so lucky.

As the thought blazed through his mind like a comet trailing cosmic dust, Jak's mindless panic abruptly became a mission: Get Daxter out of here at all costs.

He was slinking backwards toward the front room, eyes still trained out the sliver of open back door, when Jinx and the cop changed positions. A moment later, the breath Jak hadn't been consciously holding escaped in a relieved whoosh. _It's just a costume. He's not a cop. He's not a cop. _It became clear as the man turned more into the light. No walkie-talkie. No gun holster. Flimsy fabric. A different hat than what campus security wore.

Jak sighed deeply and tried to coax his heartbeat back to normal. If Halloween was meant to scare people shitless, that guy had done a good job of it. Fright over, he went back to the door. He wouldn't bug Jinx and his friend; all he had to do was find out if there were more Jello shots or not. It would only take a second.

"… I'm just saying that if I were you, I would think a little bit harder about what I was hearing before I shot off my rude mouth."

"Yeah? Well if you were me then I'd be you, an' if I were you I'd hafta kill myself," Jinx deadpanned. "You gonna get off my back or we gonna duke it out fair an' square?" He chuckled humorlessly. "Or you gonna call in yer buddies for real an' be a puss about it? Sounds about right, for you."

"Will you stop being so incredibly stupid and start showing even a hint of the brains it must have taken to get on in the chemistry graduate program?" the other man snarled. "You obviously have some clout. And you obviously have people who rely on you to do the work you do. It would be terribly unfortunate if that structure you've helped build up collapsed because you foolishly decided to not only give minors alcohol, but be caught red-handed at the party. Imagine the scandal, for one stupid mistake on your part. You'd have to quit. All the professors who helped you get on—humiliated by your behavior. All the projects you're working on—unfinished. Is that what you really want, Jinx?"

"What's your actual bottom line, here?" the blonde asked, crossing his arms in an almost bored gesture.

"Well, obviously. Considering what department I'm in, who I know, I can help you… shall we say, _resolve_ the situation long before it comes to that point. All for the occasional favor from you. Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

Hovering behind the door, all Jak could do was stare. Whoa. This sounded pretty serious. Was Jinx about to get in hot water so deep even he couldn't weasel out of it? And even though he couldn't see the second man's face, Jak knew that other voice. From _somewhere_, he knew that voice. If the guy would just turn a little bit more in profile, he would—

"Hey, Jak, tell Jinx I wan' a grape one! Grape's the only one I ain't tried yet!"

Jak let out a startled "oof!" as Daxter hit him from behind, thin arms going around his waist in a cheerfully, drunkenly oblivious tackle hug. Jak tripped into the door with a bang. It swung open wide. Suddenly he was standing awkwardly in the threshold, Daxter clinging to his back, staring eye to furious eye with a very familiar face.

"Erol?!"

Behind him Daxter gathered the sense to peer around and look, eyes wide. "Oh, shit, scary guy!" Then he did a double take and shrank back, keeping Jak firmly between them. "Scary guy's a _cop?!_"

"He ain't a cop," Jinx interjected before Erol could do much more than angrily open his mouth. "He's a cadet. Criminal justice program. He's the best little fuzz in trainin' I ever did see, though, I'll give him that. Already got the underhanded part down pat. You'll go far in the force, Inks. Now can we wrap it up, here? I'm gettin' cold standin' out here shootin' the breeze."

"I'm sure it will be much warmer down at the station," Erol growled.

"I'm sure as shit it is. But you'll be feelin' the warmth right along with me, now, am I right? Crazy thing is, blackmail is totally a thing that's illegal. And we got a witness who just happened to hear that goin' down. Don't we, Jakkie-boy?"

Jak met Jinx's eyes over the tall redhead's shoulder. His ears shot up in comprehension. "Yeah. I guess we do."

Erol was glaring back and forth between the two of them now. The cogs turning in his head were practically audible.

"I'd forget it if I were you," Jinx said amiably. "Yer buddies on the force might look the other way, but as I'm sure you know real well, the university an' the police station ain't on the same page. You may get me kicked out, sure. But we make a big enough deal, an' you're goin' down right beside me. So don't get any funny ideas, huh?"

"Oh, I assure you. My ideas are rarely funny." A quick hand adjusted his costume hat. Then Erol walked back into the house, shoulder-checking Jak hard as he passed. Daxter let out what sounded like an involuntary squeak and quickly stepped out of the way, nervous eyes meeting the bigger redhead's for just a moment before he was gone.

Jak turned to glare at the empty doorway. "You know, I almost wish he'd stuck around. I still owe him an ass kicking."

A cold wind blew, sending a barrage of dried leaves rattling and scraping across the porch. Jinx grinned. "Yeah. Too bad he's got too much brains ta get it on with you when he knows the rest'a yer team's within earshot." He put a hand on Jak's shoulder, one on Daxter's, and steered the underclassmen back toward the bright interior of the kitchen. "Come on, boys. I know where there might be a couple more Jello shots with yer names on 'em."

Daxter perked at once, the exuberant mood that had been squashed at Erol's appearance blossoming forth again in his alcohol-induced haze. "Sweet! I knew I liked ya, Jinx."

"Shots are in the fridge, Red. Middle shelf. Should be nice an' set up by now for yer jigglin' pleasure."

Jak huffed as Daxter scampered by. He was still unsettled and more than a little angry at Erol's attempted sleaziness—even though defending Jinx wasn't usually high on his list of priorities—but he shouldn't let that ruin what had otherwise been a fun night. He was moving to join Dax at the fridge when Jinx's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Hang on, Blondie."

Jak looked back at him. "Yeah?"

"I don't wanna alarm yer little pal, but… just between me an' you. Keep yer head on straight for the rest'a the night, huh? I'd bet the rest of my semester's stipend that scumbag went straight to call us out. He ain't got nothin' on me if he doesn't want big problems, but he'll sure call out the party in general for havin' underage drinkers around. We're gonna have company before too long. Be ready ta check out'a here fast."

Jak looked over at Daxter obliviously trying to dig a stubborn shot out of its cup with a plastic spoon. He smiled. "I will. Thanks, Jinx."

"Good kid. I'm off to start spreadin' the word, if I even got time. Take care of yerself, take care of yer little buddy, don't get picked up, an' I'll see ya in class next week. Later, Jakkie-babe." Then Jinx was gone.

- / - / - / - / -

Daxter happily plowed through his long-awaited grape Jello shot. By God, these things were addictive! He could happily eat nothing else but these wiggly, jiggly little wonders for the rest of his natural life. He could fill a bathtub with them and swim in their colorful glory. He could—

"Hey, Dax?"

"Yeeees?" The redhead glanced up from the spoonful he was balancing as Jak walked over. Jinx was nowhere to be seen. He was a slippery guy, that Jinx.

Jak grinned. "So. Have you had fun tonight?"

"Oh, yeah! It's been a total blast! Thanks fer bringin' me along, big guy. Ya didn't hafta not drink because'a me, though." The thought made him frown. Drinking was fun! Jak deserved to have fun, too! "Here, open up."

"Huh?"

"Open up! Say 'aah,' and all that jazz."

Obviously puzzled, Jak did as he was told. He opened his mouth just in time for Daxter to dart the spoon in, plastic clinking against the quarterback's fake fangs. Daxter laughed at his friend's look of surprise before Jak reflexively swallowed the liquor-spiked Jello. It was definitely a great night.

"Those really are pretty good. We'll have to make some in our room sometime."

"Yeah?" Dax asked hopefully.

"Yeah. But right now, I think we better get going."

Daxter blinked. Going? Going where? He didn't want to be going. He wanted to be partying. He wanted to drag Jak back to the common room for more dancing (even if the green-blonde was way too embarrassed to show off their own personal victory dance that they did when homework got done or the room finally got cleaned or Jak's favorite team won the games he watched on TV). Dax opened his mouth to say all this. All that came out was a very intelligent "…why?"

"Because—" The long, drawn wail of a siren cut through the pulsing music from the front room. Jak smiled wryly and thumbed toward the front of the house. "Because of that."

A direct assault against the heat of too much liquor and warm house full of moving bodies, Daxter's blood ran cold. Even with how fuzzy his mind was, there was no mistaking that sound. The cops weren't fake this time. "Oh, shit! Oh, shit, Jak! We're gonna be in so much trouble! We're gonna go ta jail! We're gonna get kicked out'a school! We're gonna—"

Jak reached out with a huge hand and grabbed the redhead's wrist. "We're going to get out of here, right now. Let's go."

When Jak pulled, Daxter followed without question. In seconds they were out the kitchen door and across the back porch, hurtling a line of flickering jack-o-lanterns casting dancing shadows against the back of the house. A dark alley beckoned, but Jak tugged him in the opposite direction without hesitation. They were barely across the back lawn and darting through the gap in line of tall, closely spaced yew bushes when the bright beams of a patrol car's headlights glared down the alley.

"Come on, don't stop," Jak urged when Dax stumbled clumsily. "We have to get off frat row!"

So they kept going. Jak led them a long and winding route through the backyards and backstreets of the neighborhood. Daxter stumbled along behind him, dizzy and lost but entirely trusting. The quarterback never faltered, keeping to the shadows of nearly skeletal trees and avoiding the ghostly halos of street lamps. The moon was high in the frosty sky, the sidewalks bare of the hordes of trick-or-treaters that had crowded them at sunset. For a moment they were alone in a strange, empty world.

Then a patrol car rounded the corner. Jak froze so fast that Daxter ran into his side. The redhead had one moment of sheer panic before his arm was grabbed and they were both hitting the cold ground.

"Under here!" Jak whispered urgently, pulling him under the cover of the low hedge they had been running down just seconds before.

Daxter lay still as a stone in the chill darkness, hardly daring to breathe. He was pressed close next to Jak in the dry, crunchy leaves that had built up underneath the bushes, while the leaves that had yet to fall made up a fragile layer of protection just inches over their heads on the lowest branches. He shivered violently as the beams of the car's headlights inched past in a slow sweep, only feet from where they lay. Jak's arm tightened around him.

After a brief eternity, seconds stretching into eons so slowly Daxter would swear he could see the icy dew collecting drop by drop on blades of moonlit grass, the patrol car rolled on. He let out a shaky breath.

Beside him, Jak laughed the bright, sparky laugh that only erupted when he was high on adrenaline. "See? I told you we'd be running from the cops."

Relief washed over the redhead like a breaking wave. He slumped against his bigger friend, absently grateful for the warmth Jak provided even as he smacked at him halfheartedly. "An' what the hell are you laughin' at, ya nut job? We're layin' under a goddamn bush!"

"Better under a bush than in the back of a squad car, right?"

Daxter couldn't answer. His head was spinning. Maybe that last Jello shot had been a bad idea. He looked up at Jak, the quarterback's amused grin barely visible in the moonlight that made it through the thin canopy of shrub leaves. Dax stared for one beat. Two. Then he closed his eyes tight and leaned up to press a kiss against teasing lips.

Jak froze on a hitched breath. So did Daxter. For the first time in his life, his lips were pressed against other lips, warm and slightly chapped. The ragged fringe of Jak's white Halloween wig was hitting him in the eyes. And there his brain stalled, unable to process anything more or less, until an unduly loud buzzing sound jolted him from his paralysis like a lightning strike.

Jak quickly turned his head, fumbling in the dark for his cell phone.

Daxter jerked his own head back. _Whoa. Okay. Yeah. Wow. I just did that._

The glow of Jak's phone illuminated their little cave briefly as he scanned the incoming text. "It's, uh, it's from Razer. Warning us about the cops. Jeez, he sent this like ten minutes ago. Thanks a lot, delayed signal."

The redhead swallowed hard. "Yeah, no kiddin'. Lot'a good that would'a done us if you hadn't been payin' attention, huh?" Okay. Jak wasn't freaking out. Jak was cool as a plate of fancy little cucumber sandwiches. That must mean he wasn't mad about the surprise smacker Dax had laid on him. That was good. That had to mean that everything was alright, right? Maybe people kissed their friends all the time when they'd had too much to drink and their already soggy brains got swamped with a wave of gratitude and affection. Yeah. That had to be it.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

"… huh?"

"Come on," Jak repeated patiently, giving him a little nudge. The leaves rustled around them. "We need to get home. The cops are still out. Plus, I can hear your teeth chattering from here."

"Hey, s'not my fault I get cold all'a time. This el cheapo costume didn't come with a jacket."

"It's because you're scrawny," the quarterback corrected, voice teasing again. "If you put on some weight you wouldn't be cold all the time."

Daxter tried to come up with a suitable retort, but his wits were still on a Jello shot hiatus. So he said the first thing that did manage to come to mind. "Can ya imagine how many spiders gotta be under here, Jak? Just crawlin' around in the leaves an' makin' webs in the hedge—"

There was an explosion of dry leaves and twigs as Jak shot to his feet, frantically slapping at his body and wig. "God damn it, Daxter, how could you even fucking say that?! God, fuck, shit—the frost killed them all already, right? Right? They're all dead, aren't they?"

"All of 'em but the one on yer back."

"I should have left you for the cops, you little jackass!"

The walk back to the dorm was full of whispered threats and teases, swaying shadows and smashed pumpkins. It had been the best Halloween Daxter could remember—probably the best one ever. And when they had slipped back to the darkened dorm like restless spirits and snuck past Torn's door, a warm bed was waiting.

There was a quick wash and brush. Jak scrubbed off his makeup and pried off his fangs. Dax mourned the loss of his costume helmet but got over it in record time. Then they were both collapsing into their bunks for a well-earned rest.

"Hey, Dax, I just got another text from Razer. Says he'll help if either one of us is drunk and getting sick."

"There's somethin' very wrong," Dax mumbled from the top bunk, one arm thrown over his eyes. His head was still spinning, but much more pleasantly. "Razer ain't that nice. I think somebody laced his candy. Or he got sucked up an' probed by aliens an' they took over his brains."

Jak laughed. "I won't tell him you said that. Goodnight, Dax. Happy Halloween."

"G'night, big guy. _Great_ Halloween." Daxter went dead to the world with a smile on his face, his last waking thought of how the faint taste of beer and caramel apple clinging to his friend's lips had been an entirely unexpected, but no less awesome, treat.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued…


	12. Chapter 12

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/- / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - /

Heavy frost covered the windowpanes the first morning of November. Overnight the chill wind had grown harsher and colder, whipping dead leaves into miniature tornadoes that broke against the bricks of Praxis Hall. Most of the dorm was quiet and still, its residents using the luxury of a Saturday morning to sleep off the shenanigans of the night before.

Jak hadn't bothered to set an alarm before passing out, so he slept until he woke up on his own. It was something he didn't get to do all that often anymore, what with morning classes and practices, and he savored the sight of real daylight outside the window. The days were growing ever shorter. Now it was usually still dark when he got up.

Still, even though he was wide awake, the green-blonde stayed firmly under his blankets. First and foremost, it was damn chilly in their room—the ever present cold of mid-autumn had become as normal as the pervasive heat had been at the end of summer. Staying buried until something forced him to move was the logical course of action. Secondly…

It was a toss up whether or not Daxter would remember kissing him last night.

_I don't know which is worse. If he remembers it and freaks out about it, that's really awkward and sucks. If he doesn't remember it, I'm back at square one, which still sucks. _Jak stared up at the slatted underside of the bunk above him and sighed. There was still the slim chance that Daxter would remember the kiss and not be upset by it, but the quarterback wasn't holding out much hope for that outcome. Odds were good that the almost painfully innocent peck from the night before had been nothing but a drunken whim.

Unhappy whines and twitches began to drift down from the top bunk, giving away the desperate struggles of someone fighting tooth and nail to stay unconscious. Jak winced in sympathy. Whatever got confronted or didn't that morning, Dax was still his best friend. And if he didn't puke the moment he sat upright, it would be a miracle.

Very quietly Jak got out of bed and slipped into an old pair of sweatpants and a sweater. Feeding soda and Twinkies to someone with a hangover just wasn't an option, but the cafeteria had crackers and Gatorade aplenty. They could talk when Dax didn't feel like death warmed over. Closing the door softly behind him, Jak snuck out.

- / - / - / - / -

When Daxter woke up he wished immediately that he hadn't. The first thing he noticed was the pounding of his head. The second thing he noticed, as he carefully rolled over to bury his face in his pillow in a vain attempt to block out life, was the rolling rebellion of his stomach.

_Oh, shit. Not good._

Very, very slowly Daxter propped himself up on his arms. He paused for a moment in said mockery of a yoga pose to make sure he wasn't about to upchuck all over himself and his bunk. His stomach clenched in warning. Bathroom was needed. Bathroom was needed right the hell now.

Keeping his eyes tightly closed, the redhead carefully edged around in his bunk until one cautious foot could poke around for the ladder. Luckily for him, months of conditioning had toes connecting with the wooden rung almost automatically. Which was very good, because he was sure that if he looked down the vertigo would have him barfing all over the place, and that would be doubly bad with Jak right below him.

He was half way to the floor when he remembered. The night came rushing back like a series of bad slides on a projector presentation, swirling through his brain with one image at their epicenter: his lips, on Jak's lips, under a fucking shrub, with squad cars circling like hungry sharks.

Now he _really_ wanted to puke.

"Jak?" Daxter slid the rest of the way to the floor and looked into the bottom bunk. His roommate wasn't there. "Jak…?" It came out more like a whimper as he slowly turned a dazed circle, scanning the room as if the quarterback would suddenly appear out of the closet or something. But Jak was gone.

_I screwed up. I screwed up so bad. _

Jak was probably gone because he was pissed off. Who would want to talk to an idiot who got so drunk he hauled off and kissed another guy out of the clear goddamn blue? Dax had to find him. He had to find Jak and apologize, apologize before it completely ruined things between them—

Bathroom. He needed bathroom, now. As high of a priority as finding Jak was, there was a priority even higher at the moment. Snagging the lanyard of keys off his desk, the redhead hightailed it for the bathroom as quickly as he dared.

The next ten minutes wavered back and forth over the line that divided torment and relief. Torment, because there wasn't much more miserable than being sick on your knees in a bathroom shared by an entire dorm hall of guys. Relief, because somehow the violent expulsion of everything in his stomach seemed to ease the merciless pounding in his head.

When all was said and done Daxter left the stall feeling marginally more human. He washed his face at the sink and rinsed out his mouth with tap water, then blinked blearily at himself in the mirror. "Man, I look like shit." He needed his toothbrush and a comb, and he needed to change out of the rumpled clothes he had fallen asleep in. Then he could commence tracking down Jak and prostrating himself in front of the quarterback in shameful apology.

Plan in mind, Daxter shuffled back in the direction of their room. He hadn't gone more than a few steps around the corner, though, when he ran into unforeseen company. Razer was walking up the hall toward him, hands buried deep in his pockets and a deeper than usual scowl on his face. Dax considered. Sure he and the transfer student weren't exactly best pals, but he didn't seriously have anything against the guy, so he lifted a hand in greeting.

"Hey, Razer. You havin' a super amazing morning, too?"

There was a slight nod of acknowledgement. "At the very least, my morning has not yet included the rejection of everything I consumed yesterday evening." Razer stopped next to him and raised an elegant ebony brow. "Was it worth it?"

Dax blinked up at him stupidly. "Huh?"

"Was it all worthwhile? Was the party you were so desperate to attend last night worth performing the idiotic exploits of the intoxicated, a mad dash from the authorities, and a subsequent morning of violent sickness?"

Well, when he put it that way. Daxter winced, one hand massaging his temple even as his ears drooped under the weight of the other's obvious judgment.

A sneer tugged at the corner of Razer's mouth. "I thought not."

That demanded some kind of comeback, even if the redhead wasn't feeling anywhere near up to par. "Eh, whadda you know. Yer no fun." Okay. So, not his best comeback ever. But he was in pain. It could be excused. "You, uh… you wouldn't know where Jak is by any chance, would ya?"

Green eyes narrowed. "I am not your roommate's keeper. If anything I would have expected you to know where he is at all times, with how much you follow him around."

"I don't follow him around… that much…"

"Of course you do. You trail him like a faithful hound. Anyone with eyes knows that."

"Hey, shut up!" Daxter's ears pinned back and his shoulders hunched defensively. What the hell was this guy trying to say? That sounded an awful lot like some kind of weird insinuation. "I do not—"

"Oh, _you_ shut up!" Razer snapped, swatting at the air between them like Daxter was a bothersome fly. "I am quite frankly getting tired of this. The two of you are so pathetically oblivious it has crossed the line and become annoying to watch. You're grown adults, but here you are, stumbling around one another like children playing blind-man's bluff. It is far past time to stop this foolishness and address your feelings, whatever they are."

"F-feelings…?" Dax stammered, so low it was almost a strained whisper.

Razer rolled his eyes elegantly, looking almost disgusted. "Yes, _feelings_." The air quotations didn't need to be acted out to be obvious. "If you have a feeling you would like to stick your tongue down his throat, do it. If you want to be fucked over his desk, do that, too. Just confront it, deal with it, and move on, for the love of God."

All the blood abruptly fled Daxter's face. His hitherto calmer stomach clenched into an even worse knot as he stared at Razer in horror. _Is that really what he thinks when I'm around Jak? Is that really what it looks like? But I don't—I can't—it's not like I'm HOT fer Jak or anything—! _

Not now. He couldn't deal with this now. Not right there in the hall where anybody could walk by and hear all this, with Razer standing there annoyed and frowning down like he was some kind of authority on _feelings_, and… and… quite suddenly the fear was replaced by a flash of anger. The blood that had drained from his cheeks came back with a vengeance as his hands clenched into fists. "Yeah? Well what the hell would you know, asshole? Yer so goddamn stuck up, half the time I don't even think ya _have_ feelings!"

Razer leaned back a fraction, eyes wide in surprise at the outburst.

"Oh, is that so hard ta believe? Well, I got a newsflash for ya, pal—you _never_ act like ya give a damn about anything but yerself! Does it ever get old? Ridin' around on yer high horse, lookin' down on the rest'a us peasants?" He needed to shut his mouth. He really did. But now that he was talking, Daxter found that he couldn't stop. The words just kept coming out. "You think yer so damn far above it all. You really think yer that much better an' smarter than us? Think yer better than Phoenix?"

Razer seemed to twitch. His ears slanted back from their flabbergasted perk as his emerald eyes began to hood.

Daxter swallowed hard. He was going to regret this. Razer was his friend, kind of. He didn't like to fight with people. But he just— "Newsflash number two: Phoenix ain't stupid. He'll figure out sooner or later ya don't give a shit. Good luck spendin' the rest'a the year alone when he finally gets it, ya arrogant jerkoff! Or is that what ya really been wantin' ever since we moved in this dump—?"

It was more than obvious that he was seriously jerking Razer's chain, but there weren't any red flags going up. No warning signs that he was entering the danger zone. That was why, when Razer's arm darted out like a striking snake and he found himself being lifted off the ground by the collar of his shirt, Daxter was almost more shocked than frightened. Almost.

It all happened very quickly. He had half a second to register the cold fury on the other student's face before he was dropped, another moment to think of scrambling away as a door somewhere behind him was yanked open, and then he was leaving the ground again. The redhead went backwards through a doorway into shadowy darkness, flailing his arms in a desperate but vain attempt to block his fall. He collided with something—what, he couldn't tell right off, though his weight displaced it and it fell with a loud clatter—and landed on his ass on bare concrete. He looked up in time to see Razer's lip curling in a snarl before the door was slammed once again, leaving him in the dark.

After a few seconds of shocked stillness, Daxter slowly got his bearings. From the light of the hallway seeping under the door he could make out the pile of poles he was lying in to be… broom handles. His foot was in a bucket. Razer had thrown him in 3W's utility closet.

_Why didn't I shut up?_ he thought angrily as he got cautiously to his feet. _Why the hell didn't I just shut my damn mouth? _He knew why, though. Deep down, he knew.

He had been getting soft. He hadn't been beaten up since starting at Haven U. Hadn't even come close, since the incident with Erol in the showers months ago that Jak had stepped into and ended in Daxter's favor. The redhead had let his guard down, plain and simple. Even if he had never pegged Razer for the type to throw someone in a locker—er, closet—he should have shut himself up long before the other guy would want to do it.

"It's yer own damn fault," he muttered to himself as he felt his way along the wall to the light switch. "Even if they don't show up on yer 'I smash heads' radar, that don't mean they couldn't still hurt ya, moron."

Light on, he easily found the door handle and twisted. Jiggled it. Nada. Apparently it didn't open from the inside. Daxter sighed, slumping against the door. _Figures. Somebody ought'a tell Tattooed Wonder ta put up a sign or somethin'. _

Well, what were the options now? He could yell for help, but Razer might still be out there. The thought made Daxter shrink back from the door. Yeah. Better to wait a while and make sure the bigger guy was really gone before trying to attract attention. He backed nervously away from the door, rubbing his upper arms absently. It was cold in the closet; it lacked the air vents that the residents' rooms had to keep it heated in the winter. Morosely, he picked a spot of floor uncluttered by cleaning supplies and sat down to wait, up against the far wall next to the deep metal sink.

It could have been worse. It could have been much worse. Razer could have rearranged his face for him, or decided to see if he would fit down the garbage chute inside the utility room rather than simply tossing him through the door like a used mop. It could have been so, so much worse and he was lucky to have gotten off as easily as he had.

So why did he still feel so awful?

"Asshole doesn't know what he's talkin' about," he whispered to no one, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling into a ball to fight the cold. "Fuckin' moron. Ought'a mind his own damn business. I do _not_ have the hots fer Jak. I…"

Then why _did_ he follow Jak everywhere.

Why _did_ his thoughts usually involve the quarterback?

Why had he _kissed_ his roommate less than twelve hours ago?

"Oh my God, this can't be happening to me," Dax moaned, dropping his face into his arms and curling into a smaller ball. There was nothing left in his stomach, but he felt nauseous again. His headache was back full force. "If he finds out about this… he's gonna kill me. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna kill me."

- / - / - / - / -

Jak stayed downstairs in the cafeteria longer than he meant to. He grabbed a box of saltines and a bottle of orange Gatorade easily enough, but halfway through the checkout line the morning's gossip reached him by way of sassy red dreadlocks.

"Well, well, well. Looks like our golden freshman quarterback behaved himself last night. That, or you're really good at hiding a hangover."

Jak glanced up with a start, catching eyes with the one who was hailing him over the top of the candy bar caddies. "Oh. Hey, Ashelin." While their halls might have been at bitter war, he didn't have anything against their pretty redheaded ringleader. She could even be pretty cool sometimes. "What's up?"

"Your coach's temper, if the rumor mill can be trusted. Seems like a few of your team mates are in hot water this morning."

"Oh, no." Jak swiped his meal card, grabbed his crackers, and joined Ashelin as she walked out to a small table in the dining area. "I haven't heard anything yet. Is it bad?"

"No one was nabbed, as far as I've gathered. Nobody underage, anyway. Mostly write ups for public intoxication and disorderly conduct." She sipped daintily at her coffee, one hip propped against the table. "Not that you would know anything about that, right Jak…?"

He allowed himself a smile and spun the Gatorade bottle around his fingers. "Well, you know what they say. You're only in trouble if you get caught."

Ashelin laughed, blowing at the steam coming off her cup. "Ha! I knew I liked you, kid. It's really a shame you landed in Torn's territory." She glanced down at the box of crackers he still held. "So, who's about to puke their guts up? Phoenix?"

While that was actually extremely likely, Jak couldn't back that up. He shook his head. "Probably, but I haven't heard from him this morning. These are for Dax."

"Huh. The little punk who made us lose the homecoming relay?"

"Yeah, that's him. He likes to party, but he can't hold his liquor very well yet."

"Shrimp like him, no wonder." Ashelin pushed away from the table. "It was nice talking to you, Jak. You'd better get back upstairs and cover your belongings in plastic until your roommate recovers. That or push him out in the hallway to be sick and make Torn clean it up."

Jak smiled. "Are you and Torn _ever _going to get along?"

"Why the hell would we do something like that?" With that she turned up her nose, huffed loudly, and walked away.

With the RA gone, there was nothing for it but to follow her advice. Jak headed back upstairs rather guiltily. He hoped Dax was doing alright on his own—and if he had already thrown up, Jak hoped he had made it down off the top bunk first. The bonds of best-friendship were mighty indeed, but the green-blonde really didn't feel like confronting the kind of splatter radius an accident from that high up would produce.

Luckily, there was no splatter whatsoever to be found when he got back to their room. Unluckily, there was also no Daxter to be found. Jak dropped the snacks on his desk and bemusedly let Killer out of his cage for the morning. "Looks like he managed to get to the bathroom without dying. That's good, I guess."

Still, after a few minutes of twiddling his thumbs Jak decided to go check up on the redhead. There wasn't much he could do to help Daxter, realistically, but he knew better than to underestimate the power of a show of support. Maybe being checked on would make Daxter feel better by proxy.

He was halfway to the bathroom when he saw the lanyard. It was entirely generic, one of the same lanyards that every student was given during move-in week to hold their room keys and key cards to the elevators and computer labs, and it was trailing out from underneath the door of the utility closet. Jak stooped and gave a tug, and sure enough keys jangled as they hit the other side of the door.

Jak stood up and swung the door open, fully intending to grab the lost keys and turn them in to Torn. The bright light of burning fluorescents met him, immediately followed by—

"Jak?"

The surprised squeak brought him up short. "Daxter?" Sure enough, there was his roommate, huddled on the floor next to the sink and staring at him like a deer caught in oncoming traffic. Jak's mouth fell open. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I-I, uh—well—I—" The redhead's ears fell as his eyes darted away, focusing on the floor, the wall, the mops in the corner, anywhere but on Jak.

Jak was laughing before he could stop himself. "Oh my God. Did you actually lock yourself in the closet? That's amazing, Dax." Honestly, he had never known anyone who had pulled that off without actually meaning to do it. "What were you even in here for?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Daxter muttered pointedly, still staring at the floor. His hunched posture got more pronounced.

The quarterback's grin softened. His friend looked like the embodiment of misery. Cold, painful misery. "Okay. Come on." He walked over and held out a helpful hand. "You look like you could use some aspirin."

"I could use a good kick in the ass fer drinkin' so much last night. An' a good kick in the head if I ever act like I wanna do that again." Despite the self-deprecating words, Daxter hesitantly reached up to take the offered hand. He wobbled as Jak pulled him effortlessly to his bare feet.

Reflexively, Jak held his hand tighter. "Jeez, you're cold."

Daxter glanced up at him and flushed before unobtrusively pulling his hand back. "Y-yeah, little bit. S'not bad."

Okay. The redhead was acting weird. Something was up. And Jak had a hunch he knew what that was. They weren't going to get into it standing in the middle of an unheated utility closet, though, so he turned and led the way back out into the hall. "Here's your keys, by the way."

"Huh? Oh, yeah… guess I dropped 'em when—uh. Thanks." Daxter accepted the keys and wrapped the lanyard around his wrist as they walked, staring fixedly at the dingy hallway carpet all the while.

"No problem. You want some coffee?" When they reached their door Jak unlocked it and stepped in, carefully guarding the gap with one foot at the ready to stop any possible escaping ferrets.

"Maybe. I feel like shit, honestly. The last thing I want's ta puke coffee. That would burn like… like… like I don't even know what."

Uh-oh. Yeah, that hangover had to be pretty bad if Daxter had lost his colorfully descriptive language. Jak's ears twitched in sympathy. "You should try to drink something, anyway. I brought you some stuff from downstairs."

Daxter looked up from shutting the door, glancing at Jak over his shoulder. "Ya did?"

"Yeah. It's not much, but I figured you wouldn't really be up for a big breakfast." Jak smiled wryly and made to collect the Gatorade from his desk, only to be stopped unexpectedly by a soft stutter.

"Uh, h-hey. Jak." Daxter was looking up at him through the mess his hair was in, ears low and expression contrite. His eyes, his posture, every syllable he spoke dripped with nerves. "Listen. I… I'm real sorry I was such an idiot last night. I didn't mean ta drink so much, an' I didn't mean ta… y'know. Th-that, that weird thing I did in the bush." His face and ears tinged red at that, and he looked down at the floor for inspiration before glancing beseechingly back up at Jak. "Like I said, I'm _real, _real sorry. I swear I'll never be that stupid again, Jak."

Jak felt his chest twist unpleasantly. Daxter had his back to the door. His arms were twisted up behind him as he worried with the doorknob, like he was getting ready to make a break for it in the event that he needed a quick escape route.

"You're not stupid, Dax."

"Oh, whoops, you are absolutely right. What was I thinkin'? What I meant ta say is, I totally deserve a Nobel Prize fer the works of genius I performed last night. Maybe mass quantities of jello shots should become part'a my everyday routine."

"You're not stupid," Jak repeated. He went to sit down on his bunk, moving slowly and with purpose, making sure there was no way the redhead could interpret the move as threatening. "And I'm not mad at you."

"Ya should be." A copper-colored brow rose, giving him a look that was both wary and incredulous. "What's the catch?"

Oh, boy. Now what could he say? Jak had a feeling that now was not the time to broach the topic of growing man-crushes and possible experiments. So he went for the roundabout truth. "You're my best friend. You're allowed to act stupid sometimes. _Act_ stupid, okay, because you aren't stupid." He gave Daxter a small smile, a soft huff of mingled exasperation and affection. "You're kind of… an exception."

"An exception," Daxter repeated slowly, staring at Jak in obvious confusion.

"Yeah. You can get away with stuff that nobody else can. Why that is, I still haven't figured out yet." Jak smiled wider to show that he was just teasing. "Anyway. We're cool. Don't worry about it, alright?"

Several moments passed while Daxter watched him silently, the wheels obviously turning under that rumpled red hair as he sorted things out. Then, finally, he stepped away from the door. "Whatever you say, Jak. I gotta go clean up. I need ta brush my teeth so bad ya don't even know."

Though Dax was still twitchy, some of the sharp anxiety seemed to have bled off. Jak was glad. He watched Daxter dig through his wardrobe for fresh (and hopefully warm) clothes, Killer war-bouncing around his feet with morning energy. A rolled up pair of socks fell to the floor as the redhead dug, where it was immediately seized by the ferret and fled with across the rug.

"Hey!" Daxter yelled, grabbing ineffectually at his stolen property. "Goddamn it, weasel, gimme those!"

"Oh no, you don't." Jak dove for an interception, grabbing Killer just before he could disappear under the desk. A brief tug-o-war ensued. "Drop it. Let it go," he laughed as he pulled the socks one way and Killer the other. Ferret jaws were strong for their size.

"My life is a friggin' circus, I swear," Daxter whined, massaging his temples as Jak rescued his socks from furry, slinky doom. "It ain't enough I've managed ta lose three whole packs of socks before the semester's even over, but the weasel's gotta chew on the rest. It's like he knows. He knows exactly how ta hit me where it hurts! Just like the rest'a the universe, apparently—"

Jak dropped the sock ball and put his arm around Daxter instead, pulling the surprised redhead into a one-armed hug that turned into two as Killer squirmed out of his grasp and onto Daxter's shoulder.

"Wh-what the heck?!" Dax sputtered, stiffening up as he was pulled against a broad chest.

"You looked like you needed it," Jak answered simply. Killer helpfully stuck his head down the neck of Daxter's shirt, inducing a yelp and a squirm into their impromptu group hug.

After the moment of initial surprise, the redhead seemed to loosen up. He let his forehead drop to Jak's chest with a deep sigh, not so much returning the hug as blocking out the rest of reality. It was probably helping his headache. "There is somethin' very wrong with you, ya realize. You and yer weasel both."

More than used to comments like that, Jak took it in stride—by ignoring it completely. "Drink the stuff I brought you, take some aspirin, and go take a shower. We can go for a walk when you get back. Some fresh air will make you feel better."

"It's cold out there," Daxter muttered, not lifting his head. "Don't wanna."

"No problem. You can wear my jacket."

Abruptly the redhead pulled away, reaching up to grab Killer by the neck scruff and lift the ferret from his shoulder as he did. His cheeks were bright pink. "Yeah, well. I'll… I'll think about it."

"Okay. Want me to come shower with you?"

"N-no!" Daxter backed toward the door, frantically waving Jak off with both hands. His entire face and ears were red. "No, I'm good, really! Be back in a few! Uh, bye!"

The door slammed and the green-blonde was left alone, wondering what the heck had just happened. He glanced down at Killer, who had been dumped on the rug in the process of Daxter's quick exit. Jak smiled at the somehow bemused expression on his pet's face. "So. You think he'd ever say yes?"

Killer sneezed and made a break for the trashcan, his favorite hunting ground.

"Good point."

Jak changed into his jeans and shoes, confident that he could bribe his friend out of the dorm when Daxter returned. A walk in the cold air would do that hangover some good. And even if he would have to wait for a less anxious time to approach Dax with the idea of kissing minus alcohol, he wasn't too disappointed. Sure, it could have only been the drink talking the night before, but Jak had a hunch that there had to be _something_ behind that little smooch.

He just hoped that when he did get around to asking, it wouldn't turn out to all be just in his head.

- / - / - / - / -

The walk turned out to be exactly what Daxter had anticipated: cold.

He and Jak had left the dorm aimlessly, picking sidewalks at random until they came to a park a few blocks off campus. As chill as the wind was, there were still preteens playing basketball on the leaf-strewn courts. Younger children, no doubt jacked up on their Halloween candy from the night before, clamored around the playground equipment, bundled warmly in coats and gloves. Joggers ran by on the paths, flashing bursts of bright color from their parkas and headbands.

As he had been so many weeks ago, Dax himself was grateful for the jacket Jak had lent him. He worried with the long sleeves as they walked. Yeah, he liked the jacket that was heavy and warm and smelled like aftershave. Even if it did still give him that funny warm squirmy feeling he could now put a name to. That name, coincidentally, was guy-crush.

The dilemma churned around in the redhead's brain, keeping him largely preoccupied from what would surely have been awkward small talk, but luckily Jak seemed to take his unusual lack of chit-chat as a side effect of the hangover.

"Wait here a minute," Jak said as they passed a stone bench with a good view of the river that twisted and turned at the back border of the park. Then he was off, jogging toward what looked like a hot dog vender's cart.

Dax groaned as he flopped down on the bench, wrists on his knees. "Are you ever _not_ starvin'?" he yelled after the retreating figure of his friend.

Oh, well. With Jak away from his side for half a minute he might be able to think a little more clearly. He looked out over the river to the nearly bare woods beyond. It was obviously time to come level with himself.

Okay. So. Maybe he did have a little thing for Jak. That didn't have to be a huge deal, though, did it? _As long as I keep my lips ta myself an' don't say anything stupid, Blondie doesn't even hafta know. One little bitty crush on yer roommate doesn't make ya flamin' gay. Does it? I mean, just 'cause I kissed him one time doesn't mean I don't wanna kiss girls anymore, _he reasoned. _Yeah. Yeah, that's right. So this is still normal!_

To prove his point, Daxter proceeded to ponder kissing a girl; one of the cheer squad would do for all intents and purposes, clichés aside. Yep. Said train of thought was still appealing.

Then, just for kicks… just a little experiment, really… he thought about kissing Jak again. Somewhere other than in a bush, facing threat of arrest. He thought of Jak sitting down on the bench beside him, leaning forward, and kissing _him_ this time. Maybe a big hand on his shoulder, or on the side of his face. The blonde would probably be the kind of dork who would turn something like that into a topple off the bench to the grass behind it, a playful tussle in the leaves, strong arms pulling him to a warm chest—

"Dax?"

"What?!" Daxter crashed back to reality with a jolt.

"Are you feeling okay? Your face is really red."

Shit. His hands flew automatically to his cheeks. "W-well, duh, my face is red. It's cold out here!"

"Hey, at least it's not snowing, right?" Jak sat down on the bench next to him and held out a Styrofoam cup. "I got you some hot chocolate. And a snack."

Shoving his previous thoughts to the dustiest corner of his mind, Daxter warily eyed the paper bag in his friend's hand. "Is it a hot dog? 'Cause I gotta warn ya, pal, my stomach and me still aren't speakin' an' if it's a hot dog I might urp on it."

"I know you don't feel good. That's why the hot dog is mine, and this is yours." Jak dug his hot dog out of the little cardboard carton before handing the bag over. "I think it'll be okay."

Daxter peeked into the bag and pulled out a giant soft pretzel. It was still hot. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

They lapsed into silence, Jak contentedly polishing off his hot dog and Dax nibbling at his pretzel. He wasn't even remotely hungry (in fact he still felt positively nauseous) but there was no way he was going to turn down such a thoughtful gift. As they sat, a small gaggle of geese wandered by, heading inland from where they had been paddling in the river. To a goose, the flock stopped to stare.

Jak broke the last of his hot dog bun into tiny pieces and threw it to them. "Shouldn't you guys be heading south for the winter?"

"Don't let the cold front kick ya in the tail feathers on yer way out." Dax broke off a section of the pretzel and pinched off little bits that he could throw. "I bet it'll be snowin' before next week. Better get along, little goosies."

"You know, you can herd geese," Jak mused as they watched the birds quibble over pretzel pieces. "Me and Keira and my dog Croc used to do it all the time when we were kids."

"Why does that not surprise me…?"

"Shut up." Jak gave him a light shove. "You have no idea what real fun is."

"I was a deprived child. Gimme a break."

The green-blonde's smile faded at that. "I wish we'd known each other when we were kids. We would have had so much fun together. Probably gotten into so much trouble together. All three of us." He looked at the milling geese thoughtfully. "… but, I guess there's no reason we can't make up for lost time."

Daxter's eyebrows met his hairline as Jak got up off the bench. "If you think I'm actually chasin' those geese with you, you're out'a yer damn mind."

"Come on, Dax," Jak said, voice hitting a playful pitch that was usually only reached when he baby-talked the ferret. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. Let's go get those geese, now. Let's go."

"Dude, come on, how old are you, seriously!"

The geese, as though sensing imminent shenanigans, began to waddle away.

"If they make it to the river it's all over! Come on, Dax, you have to be my right flank or this will never work."

Dax laughed helplessly as Jak grabbed him by the wrists and tried to tug him off the bench. Just the thought of this was hysterical. And Jak was so clearly being a dumb-ass just to make him smile. "Jakkie-boy, have some mercy! I'm hung over, here! I already got a headache, I threw up, I got thrown in a closet—that's enough fer one morning!"

Jak froze, his hands still gripping thin wrists, looking down at him with wide eyes. "You got _thrown_ in a closet?"

The laughter died in Daxter's throat like an ant under a boot. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Uh…"

"Who threw you in the closet?" Jak demanded. All traces of playfulness had vanished from his voice, and the anger that took its place made the redhead cringe reflexively.

"Just don't worry about it, okay? I didn't mean ta say anything!" Dax pulled ineffectively at the grip on his hands, finally managing to get free when Jak seemed to realize how strongly he was actually holding on.

"Of course I'm going to worry about it, you got _thrown in the closet!_" Jak groaned, exasperation mingling with the anger as he dropped back to the bench. "Since when is it okay for someone to do that?"

Daxter stared at the muddy ground between his feet. Shit, shit, shit. He had completely destroyed their good mood. Jak was never supposed to know about that, for exactly this reason. "I didn't say it was okay, but it already happened. It's done. It's over. Just let it go."

"Hell no I am not letting it go! Just tell me who it was. I'll take care of it, I promise."

"I don't want you takin' care of it, that's my whole point!" Daxter threw up his hands. Dumb, thick-headed, good-hearted jock. "If we just let it go, it's over. No more trouble. I do not like trouble, Jak. Trouble is bad. Why go makin' it?"

"Because some asshole owes you an apology, and I'm going to make sure you get it."

"I do not like that look, Jak. It's not reassuring. Not reassuring at all." It was the look of a bulldog with its jaws clamped around a robber's leg, and nothing short of a bullet or Armageddon would loosen that hold. "Look. If I tell ya what happened, will you calm the hell down?"

Jak's eyes narrowed. "I am calm. I'm very calm. I just want to break faces."

"Yer not helpin' yer case."

The quarterback sighed deeply. "Okay. I promise I won't do anything stupid. I just want to make sure it doesn't happen again. Please, tell me?"

Forlornly, Daxter conceded defeat. Jak was never going to let it go. He just had to trust that his friend would listen to him. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. I ran into Razer this mornin' while you were gone."

"Razer? It was _Razer?_"

"Yes, it was Razer. Be quiet an' lemme finish. Like I said, it was while you were gone an' we sort of… got in an argument. He said somethin' that pissed me off, an' instead of doin' the smart thing an' keepin' my big mouth shut I said some stuff that pissed him off more. He got tired'a me runnin' my yap. Shoved me in the closet. That's all there is to it. I was dumb, I didn't shut up, it was my fault—"

"The hell it's your fault!" Jak exploded, expression so angry that Daxter reflexively slid backward on the bench to put space between them, even if the anger was directed elsewhere. "I don't give a damn where he's from, around here you don't get to lock people in closets when you get mad. If he thinks he can get away with that he's going to be very sadly mistaken."

Daxter's ears fell. He looked up at Jak worriedly. "You promised. Right? You promised. No bein' stupid. No startin' fights. Specially not with Razer."

Jak glanced away, frowning deeply. No doubt he was thinking about the repercussions a fight with the exchange student would bring—namely, issues with the _other_ exchange student, Phoenix. Jak and Phoenix were not only teammates, but good friends. And Phoenix was more than passing attached to his roommate, Razer. It was all a big, ugly, tangled ball of bad temper and worse decisions.

Finally, after what seemed like eons to the anxious redhead, Jak held out his hand. "I promised. No fights. But I want him to apologize to you. Apologize and mean it, preferably."

Daxter sighed, a deep, relieved breath as he reached out to shake on it. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. As long as ya don't make a federal deal out of it."

"I just—it doesn't make sense." The quarterback was clearly at a loss. "I don't get it. I know you and Razer don't get along, but I never thought he would do something like that."

"Yeah, yer not the only one, trust me."

"Something's not right about this. He was being really nice last night. He tried to warn me about the cops, he even offered to come help us if we needed it. Why snap and do that to you this morning?"

"I dunno. Maybe he had somethin' else on his mind." Whatever it was, Dax didn't care to think on it any further. "Don't worry about it, Jak. I say fer the umpteenth time: it's not a big deal. And it's still damned cold out here," he added when Jak looked unconvinced. "Let's go home, huh? I just wanna get warm an' relax."

"Okay. Sorry." Jak had the decency to look sorry, too. "Thanks for telling me all that, Dax. Really. If someone's giving you grief, I want to make them knock it off. I won't let anybody push you around."

Dax turned away and grabbed his cold hot chocolate from the bench to hide his sudden flush. "Cause yer a superhero, obviously. Fake-Jock Man, savior of wimps everywhere. Fightin' locker room crime, protectin' the puny, single handedly bringin' about campus peace."

Jak rolled his eyes as they started to walk. "Oh, great. Is this going to make it into those notebooks you're always scribbling in?"

"Whadda you know about my notebooks?!"

It hadn't been a great start to the month. Far from it. Daxter didn't know what would happen with Razer, or even with Phoenix when he got involved. Classes and homework would only get more intense on the uphill slope to final exams, and then came the insanity of Christmas, which he had never been a big fan of. But where all that would once have alarmed him, now he felt strangely okay with it all.

Jak was still his best friend and, despite the redhead's own recent stupidity, Jak still had his back. He couldn't ask for more than that. So he would keep this moronic attraction to his best friend a closely guarded secret.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	13. Chapter 13

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / -

"What about Tech 101? Tuesdays and Thursdays at nine thirty. Third one down."

"Yeah, I see it. Professor Vin, huh? Looks okay ta me. Want it?"

"Let's do it. I'll text Phoenix and see if he can get in before they fill up."

Daxter rolled his eyes good-naturedly as his roommate whipped out his phone. "Whatever you say, Jakkie-boy." He double clicked on the chosen course listing, sending the request into his online profile.

Praxis Hall's computer lab buzzed amiably with the murmurs of students submitting their online course requests for the upcoming spring semester. During a break in their afternoons, after class but before they had to go their separate ways, Jak had called a powwow to determine how much of next semester's schedule could be synchronized. So far the operation was a success, with three of five classes registered for together.

Jak scanned the list on the screen in front of him. "Okay, so we covered math, history, and tech. Can we get anything else?"

"Unless you wanna take Spanish 102 plus a creative writing course—"

"Pass."

"That's what I thought. Then that covers it. I look forward to a promising spring semester, Mr. Mar. And by 'promising' I mean one in which I sleep through all the boring parts of our classes an' you share all yer notes."

Jak gave him a deceptively placid stare. "Don't assume that fifteen credit hours won't leave me time to noogie you to death."

"Psssh. Don't assume fifteen creds and a job won't leave me time ta hurl myself back in the utility closet if I stoop low enough ta bum notes off the fake jock. The shame! I would never live it down!"

Spinning a half turn in his computer chair, Jak flipped a pencil eraser at him. "I'd never let you live it down. But I would hope you'd stay out of the closet." His smirk softened noticeably as the redhead huffed. "By the way. How are things with you and Razer?"

Well, crap. Just the topic Daxter had been avoiding for four days now. He primly turned back to his own computer and proceeded to open the student email client. "Things are just dandy with me an' Razer. I ain't spoken ta the the guy since Saturday. Just the way I like it."

The quarterback frowned. "Dax, you can't just avoid Razer for the rest of the year."

"Oh yeah? Watch me."

"Come on, the guy lives next door to us. I'm still not real happy with him either, but… It would be great if we could all keep getting along. Didn't he apologize to you? Phoenix told me he did. He even apologized to _me _for that."

The truth of the matter was that Razer had, in fact, apologized. To Daxter's amazement, he had been sought out about it only hours after the ill-fated argument had taken place. But, no matter how sincere the older student's formal apology had seemed, Dax just couldn't drop his guard again so easily. There was too much of a chance that Razer had only tried to make peace to appease Jak and Phoenix. It was just better to give him as wide a berth as possible.

"… yeah, he said he was sorry."

"Good." Jak looked pleased. "I'll be glad when we can all hang out together again."

"Yeah, sure." Moving on with life. Email checked, Daxter logged off and stretched. "Bluh. I guess I better get back upstairs and change. Gotta be at work at two." He stood up, waiting for Jak to follow him out of the lab.

"You're getting an awful lot of hours lately," the green-blonde observed as they ascended the stairwell.

"I know, right? I've never had so much money in my life! Not ta mention all the free pizza. I'll bring ya some tonight if ya say pretty please."

Jak grinned. "Pretty please with sugar on top. I have practice this afternoon. I'm gonna be—"

"Starving. I know." Daxter waved him off with a long-suffering sigh. He knew the drill. "Coach crammin' in one more practice before the big day, huh?"

Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling panels. "Oh yeah. He's foaming at the mouth. I mean, I know it's the first game of the playoffs, but there are only so many ways he can motivate and lecture and threaten us before we start tuning him out and just, y'know. Play football."

The redhead waved it off as they reached their room. "Meh. Don't worry about it, big guy. You'll do great. Ya always do."

"You're coming to the game to make sure I do great, aren't you?" Jak asked.

Dax thought it over as he shucked his hoodie for his uniform shirt. "I'll do my best, Jakkie-boy. Saturday nights are hell'a busy, plus everybody'll probably be gorgin' on pizza left an' right on a game night." He couldn't help but notice his friend's crestfallen expression. "…but I'm gonna ask Taryn when I go in if I can have it off."

Jak perked up instantly. "Cool."

"Yeah, yeah. Heaven forbid I miss a game. What am I, yer lucky rabbit's foot?"

A big hand reached out and began to exaggeratedly pet his hair. "Oh, absolutely. Soft and fluffy."

"Gah, stop that! I ain't yer ferret!" Daxter swatted the hand away, grabbed his Pizza Haven cap off the back of his desk chair, and smashed it onto his head. "Alright, I'm out'a here. Have fun at practice, okay? Don't get yer marbles bashed out before the big game."

"Don't let any kids dump soda on you."

"I swear ta God, I'm gonna start sprayin' the evil brats an' their lousy parents with hot marinara when they do that." Hey, that was a great idea! He had to remember that one. "See ya later, Jak."

"Later."

Daxter pulled the door closed behind himself and trotted down the hall, deep in thought. _So Jak wants me ta come watch the game. Okay, no big deal. Ain't like it's a date. We're best pals—I should'a known he'd want me there. Guess the least I can do is show up an' cheer for the guy, since I'm being all creeper-crushy on him. Now, what kinda sweet talk I can lay on Taryn ta make her gimme the night off…?_

- / - / - / - / -

"Okay, boys, that's a wrap. Good job out there today. Keep up that enthusiasm and we'll kill 'em on Saturday! Dismissed." Coach Sig's whistle shrilled through the frosty air.

Jak breathed a sigh of relief as the Haven Warriors broke their huddle and dispersed toward the locker rooms. The wind had died down, but it was still more than cold enough for snow—certainly cold enough to quickly steal the impressive body heat that a two hour practice session had drummed up as soon as the body stopped moving. Two minutes into the coach's final pep talk before game day and the quarterback had been shivering as the sweat he was soaked with turned chill.

"Lovely day for a romp on the old gridiron, don't you think, Jak?" Phoenix quipped, jogging up beside him. "Gorgeous gray skies, below freezing temperatures, slightly crazed coach. All in a day's work."

"If it doesn't snow before the sun goes down I'll be very surprised," Jak grumbled as they walked into the lockers. "I can't feel my feet anymore." Post-practice shower was going to feel sooooo good.

"Just think of what we'll have to look forward to this weekend. There's a chance of flurries all day Saturday."

"Silence, blasphemer, or I'll snap you with a towel so hard they'll hear you screaming all the way back at the dorm."

Despite the threats, cleanup and decompression got underway as normal. The room filled with the buzz of conversation, the slamming of lockers, the spray of showers. Jak shucked his helmet, gear, uniform, and cleats on the bench beside his locked, snagged a towel, and headed for the last sound eagerly. Phoenix followed casually behind him.

The warm, muggy steam and hot water felt as good as the green-blonde had hoped, and he stood with his face in the spray for several minutes—until the water suddenly went icy. "Goddamn it!" he roared, eyes flying open just in time to see Phoenix's hand dart away from his shower knob.

Laughing madly, the Aussie dashed out of the showers, splattering soap and water everywhere. He sideswiped Mog, who fell ass first into the towel hamper with an "oof!" of surprise and puzzlement.

Jak was hard on his heels, towel clutched around his waist. "I was _relaxing_, you son of a bitch! What the hell is the matter with you?!"

Phoenix had reached his locker, directly across from Jak's, and was still laughing. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry, mate. I couldn't resist."

"I just bet you couldn't," Jak muttered darkly. Shooting his friend a last evil glance, he opened his own locker and began to pull out his clothes. Obviously that was the only way he was going to be getting warm.

Phoenix looked back over his shoulder beseechingly as they started to dress. "I was just trying to have a little bit of fun. Everyone's been so bloody serious for the past few days."

Jak sighed as he pulled on boxers, jeans, and socks. "Yeah. I guess it has been kind of uptight." It seemed like Razer was avoiding him and Daxter just as much as the redhead was avoiding Razer. They still had to pass in the halls sometimes, though. Things were awkward and strained. "So. Is Razer feeling…?" He searched for the words as he tugged his shirt on. "I don't know. Any more human lately?"

There was a pause as Phoenix shook out his shirt and jeans. The running back looked thoughtful, his long black hair still loose and dripping as it framed his face. "To tell you the truth, Jak, I'm not sure. Razer has some… issues."

"I never would have guessed," Jak grumbled, plopping down on the bench to lace up his shoes. Who was he kidding? Razer was practically the poster boy for brooding security issues. Everyone knew the guy was about as easy to get close to as a twenty foot saguaro cactus was to climb. That Phoenix had managed to get as close as he already had seemed like a small miracle in itself.

"Try not to think too badly of him. He's trying, really he is. I wish I could help more, but there's still a lot he hasn't told me."

That he could understand. It had taken months for his own roommate to really start opening up around him, and Daxter's personality seemed to be inherently much more outgoing than Razer's. "I don't know what to tell you, Phoenix. Other than to just keep trying."

"Oh, I will, don't worry about that. I'm going to continue being this bloody idiot's friend if it kills me."

Jak laughed. "I know the feeling. Why the hell are we so stubborn, Phoenix?"

The running back grinned at him. "Must be a trait all football players share."

He was about to remark on what that said about the general intelligence of the sport, coming dangerously close to channeling Daxter's more caustic jock remarks, when the shout rang out from the locker room door.

"_Fight in the parking lot!"_

Jak hesitated barely a second before he bolted, leaving Phoenix to stumble into his pants behind him. If a teammate was announcing a fight, another teammate had to be in it. Shit, shit, shit. That was all they needed, someone getting injured off the field before the first game of the playoffs. He skidded out into the hallway well behind the majority of the team; thanks to his gossip session with Phoenix slowing them up, most of the other players had already gone. But before he could chase the retreating figures still in his line of sight, though, Sig ran out of his office.

"Fuckin' hell!" The coach didn't slow down as he passed. He didn't need to; Jak was already at his side. "This way, chili pepper—we'll go out the side and beat 'em there." Sig cut around a corner and swung over a railing, heading for the exit that led directly to the main stadium parking lot. Everyone else seemed to have gone out the main entrance.

Jak put on a burst of speed and vaulted over, hard on Sig's heels. Bare feet slapping the tile behind them announced that Phoenix too was on his way to back them up. Good. Between the three of them there should be no problem breaking up whatever was going on out there. The quarterback was fully confident of that.

He was confident of that until the three of them burst out the side door onto the cold sidewalk and actually saw what was going on. The quarterback mouthed a near-silent "Oh, shit."

This wasn't a blustering round of pushing and posturing. Or a one-on-one fistfight. Or even a practiced duel between serious contenders. What was happening in the parking lot was an all-against-one brawl. A single figure was faced off against what looked at first glance to be half their team. Most of the cheerleaders stood in a huddle near a sports car parked in the fire lane, gasping and shrieking with every blow and lunge.

The lone wolf swung out in a somehow graceful move, some sort of stocky weapon in his grip. Then he pivoted, and Jak got a good look at his face for the first time. "Isn't that…?" he muttered disbelievingly, but even as the thought left him he knew who it was.

Razer was proceeding to beat the hell out of his team with what looked like a piece of a tree branch, and was getting the hell beaten out of himself right back for the effort.

Phoenix was frozen beside Jak, staring mutely at the carnage.

Sig was a bit more vocal. "_Time!_" he bellowed, the one word guaranteed to be instantly obeyed by all players present. Most of the crowd stopped short, turning to face their coach, but the ones immediately engaged with Razer didn't so much as pause. Verbal warnings were obviously not going to cut it.

Jak glanced at Phoenix and then they were both moving, racing to get between the combatants before any more damage was done. Phoenix took the lead almost instantly, hardly seeming to touch the ground as he sprinted ahead, entirely focused on his roommate.

"Phoenix!" Jak yelled after him, more than alarmed by the sudden reminder that his friend was still barefoot and shirtless in the freezing parking lot, wet hair streaming behind him. "Hey! Let me and Sig handle it!"

His words fell on deaf ears. Freezing concrete, hard gravel, shards of glass, field of land mines—Phoenix paused for nothing as he exploded into the ring of players surrounding his roommate like a detonating grenade.

Jak hit the fray mere seconds later with arms outstretched, grabbing his teammates by the backs of their coats and trying to haul them away even as he maneuvered to get near Razer. Phoenix was already there, standing in front of his bloody friend like a living shield and blocking the blows.

"Stop! Everybody stop! What the hell is going on?!" Jak yelled in a desperate bid for order, but between the continued screams of the cheerleaders, a barrage of angry shouts from the team, the wail of approaching sirens, and another deafening bellow from Sig, he got no clear answer.

Mass chaos seemed to be the order of the day. Rather than stopping the fight, the appearance of the quarterback and running back stepping in to defend their opponent seemed to be confusing the team. Players began to switch sides, turning on each other in what quickly devolved from a fistfight into a melee of indiscriminate grappling that would surely have done the Haven U wrestling team proud.

"Alright, I've had about enough of this bullshit! Break it the hell up, you morons!" Sig waded into the mess, grabbing young men left and right by the collars of their jackets and hurling them apart. "You and you," he ordered, picking out two of the less beaten players with quick snaps of his fingers, "start helping these guys off the ground. You three over there, you go keep those girls from runnin' off, we need 'em to tell the police what happened. All the rest of you, get the hell back! Up on the sidewalk, right now!"

Then campus security arrived.

There was nothing Jak could do but watch dumbly as Razer, divested of his weapon at gunpoint, was handcuffed and led away from them. By his side, Phoenix stood helplessly. The entire scene had taken on an air of surrealism—it had come out of the blue, upended the world, and then was over in an instant, like a tornado through summer fields.

Sig suddenly appeared behind them. "You," he said, dropping a hand on Phoenix's shoulder, "get your ass back inside and get dressed. I don't need a running back with pneumonia."

Even in the face of what had just happened, their coach had a good point. Phoenix's bare feet had to be as numb as the rest of him looked. Jak grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd. As soon as they were clear of the mob of players, cheerleaders, and security officers taking witness statements, he leaned in. "Do you have any idea what the hell that was all about?"

The Aussie straightened up, finally looking him in the eye. "Not a bloody clue." Then he turned his attention back to the stadium and began to stride with great purpose toward it. "But I intend to find out."

Unfortunately, by the time Phoenix finished dressing, Razer had already been loaded into a squad car and taken away, along with all the players directly involved in the initial fight. Beyond some minor questioning when they found out that he was Razer's roommate, security wouldn't tell Phoenix anything.

Sig noticed when the running back's anger began to boil over. "Cool it, chili pepper," he growled, holding Phoenix back with a strong grip on his shoulder. "I don't need two more men involved in this mess."

Jak felt a surge of sympathy for his friend. Phoenix was obviously frustrated, helpless to do anything for Razer. The green-blonde turned to Sig, his own resolve hardening. "We're already involved."

Phoenix looked up in surprise.

"Razer's our friend, and that was our team trying to flatten him," Jak continued firmly. For Phoenix's sake, he couldn't let Sig shut them out of everything, too. "You don't get much more involved than we are."

Phoenix's look turned grateful. He seemed to relax, if only slightly.

Sig, hands on his hips, looked up at the roiling sky for inspiration. The sun was already starting to set behind the blanket of clouds, the wind picking up. "We're not having this conversation out in the open," he finally grumbled, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "My office. Ten minutes. And don't you dare bring anyone else who's 'involved.'"

With that they dispersed. Sig headed back inside, probably to his office to place some careful calls. Phoenix excused himself in a bid to move Razer's car, currently guarded by one of the remaining officers, out of the stadium's fire lane before it could be towed.

As for Jak, he headed back to the lockers to collect his gear while he waited for the designated rendezvous time to roll around. Once they could piece together what had really happened out in the parking lot, he would do all he could to help Phoenix figure out how to help Razer—but at the same time, he could feel a headache coming on. _Why do I feel like this clusterfuck of a day isn't even close to being over yet…?_

- / - / - / - / -

"You tell her."

"Nu-uh. No way, dude. You tell her."

"Why me?! She's your cousin, you tell her!"

"She's always mad at me! She likes you, dude. You tell her."

"Well I highly doubt she's gonna like me anymore if I tell her the ice machine's crapped out again! She had a fit the _first _time it happened." Daxter peered cautiously into Pizza Haven's kitchen, where Taryn was industriously tossing dough. "Ximon, listen, I really need her ta stay happy with me fer just a little bit longer, alright? I gotta ask her a favor."

"Oh, yeah?" Ximon lounged against the wall next to him, unconcernedly sipping an iceless soda. "What are you gonna ask her?"

"See, thing is, I reeeeally need Saturday night off. And I'm kind of scheduled ta work it right now."

"What's going on Saturday?"

Daxter gave the blonde a sidelong frown. "Oh, nothin' much. Just the first game'a the playoffs. Y'know, the football playoffs? The football playoffs the Warriors qualified for because an' only because my best pal Jak is the best freshman quarterback the university's ever seen?"

"Oh! Right, right, dude. That game."

"Yeah, that game. I gotta be there. Jak asked me ta come cheer for him. I really need ta get that night off." The redhead gave Ximon a sudden shove that landed the delivery guy in full view of the kitchen. "So you tell her!"

"Delivery up!" Taryn yelled at precisely that moment, appearing from the depths of the restaurant with a stack of pizza boxes. "Oh, good, there you are, Ximon. For once you're here when I need you."

Taking the pizzas as the stays of execution that they so obviously were, Ximon turned tail and ran for the door. "Sorry, dude! I got deliveries to make—you tell her!"

Daxter glared daggers at the retreating back of his coworker. "See if I ever make an excuse fer _you_ again."

Sensing a disturbance in the Force, Taryn turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Tell me what, Daxter?"

He immediately began to flail. "Uh—I—ah, y'see, there might be a teensy little problem with the—"

"Excuse me, miss?" A customer leaned over the counter, holding her drink cup in one hand. "The ice machine isn't working."

Daxter smiled innocently. "Yeah, what she said."

Taryn threw her hands up with a groan. "Oh, for the love of—_again_? What are we even paying these useless repairmen for?" She threw aside her apron and grabbed a wrench from under the cash register, flashing a brilliantly fake smile at the unimpressed customer. "I'll be with you in just a moment, ma'am. So sorry for the inconvenience. Daxter, find the 'out of order' sign."

"Hey, wait!" The redhead halted her bustle with an imploring look. "Can I have Saturday night off?"

She blinked. "Saturday? _This_ Saturday?"

"Yeah, this Saturday."

"Daxter, you can't be serious. That's a game night."

"Well, see, that's why I need the night off! Y'know my roommate—my best friend—Jak, right? He's on the team. He really wants me ta be there. I told him I'd cheer him on." He clasped his hands and gave her his best sad puppy face. "So pa-leeeeeease?"

Taryn facepalmed with a deep sigh. "Listen. As much as I respect your very manly bromance with your roommate, Saturday night is going to be insane. We'll have a line out the door, if past game nights are anything to go by. I really need you to be here."

His ears drooped. "What if I can get somebody ta cover for me?"

"… alright. If you can get someone to cover for you, be my guest. Go to the game. Enjoy the game. Cheer your little heart out until it freezes solid inside your chest. Saturday's forecast looks terrible."

"Awesome!" Daxter whooped. "Despite that incredibly morbid imagery, I fully plan on findin' somebody ta cover for me. Thanks, Taryn. Yer the best boss ever."

"Oh, am I?" She raised a lavender brow with a half smile. "Then you won't mind staying to help me close up tonight."

Dax balked. "What?! No no no no, hang on, I'm supposed ta get off in fifteen minutes! I've got important stuff ta take care of, toots." Important stuff like bringing Jak a pizza. It was already almost eight o'clock—the quarterback would have been out of practice for at least three hours. The poor guy was probably scarfing down ferret treats by now! …yeah, okay, so Jak would just go down to the cafeteria if he was hungry, but Daxter had promised him pizza and he wanted to bring pizza, damn it.

"Is the important stuff you have to do more important than being paid double time for the next three hours?" Taryn cooed sweetly.

Damn it! She knew how to get him right where it hurt. But since Jak had probably already eaten anyway, what was the harm? "… I guess maybe it can wait 'til we close." He could always use the pizza as a midnight snack, right? Right.

"Excellent. I knew there was a reason I keep you around, Daxter." Behind the counter, the phone rang. "And, right on cue. It never ends. Go get that sign put up and find the ice bucket—it should be next to the sausage in the freezer."

With a sigh, the redhead grabbed the oft-used sign and headed out to the drink dispensers. He would have to send Jak a text of explanation if he got half a chance. A chance which looked less likely to happen as he approached the drink station. "Hey, little guy? Kiddo? Sorry, but the ice machine's not workin'."

The little boy, who had pushed a nearby chair over and was using it as a stool to reach the soda spouts, blinked at him.

"See? This here sign says that the ice maker is broken." Daxter held the cardboard up helpfully, even though the kid didn't look old enough to be reading it just yet. "I'll go in the back an' get ya some ice out'a the freezer, so why don't ya hop on down from there before somebody breaks a leg an' sues the restaurant, okay?"

For a moment, the little boy seemed to think it over. Then he turned back to the soda machine and, leaning all his weight behind it, smashed his plastic kiddy cup into the ice lever. The lever snapped with a crack and flew three tables over, landing in a plate of spaghetti. A tiny mouth fell open. "Uh-oh!"

"Yeah, uh-oh!" Daxter shrieked, dropping the sign to grab what hair wasn't covered by his uniform cap. "What the heck, kid?! I just told ya the thing was broken!" His fingers itched to yank the little turd down off the chair, violating the hell out of the policy where employees weren't allowed to touch customers for any reason. "Where's yer mom!?"

Blink, blink. "In'a baf'room."

"In the bathroom. Of course she's in the bathroom. That's it, kid, I am so getting the manager! Taryn!"

Suddenly double pay didn't hold quite the same appeal it had five minutes prior. All he wanted in life was to go home and see Jak's face light up as the corners of his mouth got smeared with pizza sauce. _Hopefully I'll survive until I can get home… Goddamn, I hope Jakkie-boy had a better day than me!_

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	14. Chapter 14

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / -

It was past ten that night when Jak finally called it quits and headed back to Praxis Hall. In a way he felt bad for leaving Phoenix, but rationally he knew that there wasn't anything else he could do to help.

In the hours since the epic brawl in the parking lot, Phoenix had turned the dogged determination he showed on the football field toward helping his roommate however he could. After a hash-out in Sig's office, the running back had become a whirlwind of proficiency. He'd done the best he could on short notice to find out just what could be expected when a non-citizen transfer student like Razer ran in with the law. He had contacted each of Razer's professors, one by one, to let them know without too many details that Razer had been hurt and wouldn't be in class until further notice. He was also in a perpetual fight with the campus police to find out when they would finally release his roommate, who was definitely in need of medical attention if the blood all over his face earlier had been anything to go by.

Through the proceedings Jak had stayed as much for moral support as anything else. _"Hey! Everything's going to be okay, alright?"_ he had finally said, all but shaking his friend when it seemed like Phoenix was going to flip a table after one more fruitless argument over the phone with the authorities. _"It's going to work out fine, because Razer didn't do anything wrong. Just remember that."_

It had seemed to calm the running back down, and Jak had left shortly after that. As much as he wanted to support his friends, they had no idea how long they would be waiting for Razer to be released. He couldn't sit indefinitely waiting and ignore his other responsibilities. One of which was an extremely pissy ferret.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Jak dropped his gym bag and opened the cage door. Killer, who had been chewing ineffectively on the bars, ran out like a shot and disappeared under the bunks in a flurry of squeaking. The green-blonde couldn't blame his pet for being antsy. Killer was hardly ever locked up as long as he had been that day. Usually either Jak or Daxter would be home in the afternoon to let him out for a run.

Speaking of Daxter…

Jak dropped down on the edge of his bunk, glancing over at the redhead's desk. The lamp was still off. Daxter's uniform hat and jacket weren't hanging on the back of the chair.

"Guess he had to work late," Jak mused quietly as Killer darted out from under the bed to nip at his shoe. "Can anything else go wrong tonight?"

Dax was supposed to be there, damn it. He was an instant uplift to any bad mood. After hours of focus on one topic Jak needed to talk to someone who wasn't Sig or Phoenix, needed to talk about something that wasn't the foreboding fate of their temperamental foreign neighbor. Plus, Daxter had promised to bring pizza, and when he promised he always delivered.

With a deep sigh Jak fell at an angle across his bunk. He could name at least five things off the top of his head that needed to be done, and he didn't want to think about any of them. There was a pile of homework on his desk that was due the next day. There was a pile of laundry by the wardrobe that should have been washed, dried, and folded by now. The floor and rugs needed to be swept. He had meant to call Uncle that night to touch base. And on top of all that, it was almost time for midnight snacks and he hadn't even had dinner yet.

… _screw it. Dinner call in the dining halls ended two hours ago. I can wait for the pizza._

Lying down had been a mistake. Now that he was down, he wanted to stay there. Jak was tired mentally and physically. Going to bed right there on the spot was tempting, if not for the insistent grumbling of his stomach that wasn't going to take no for an answer until breakfast. Then too there was the fact that the quarterback couldn't help but still be restless. His brain simply would not shut up about the day's drama; his body was still twitchy with the anticipation of action that couldn't happen yet. Not with everything at a standstill until the campus authorities saw fit to do something with Razer, for better or worse.

_Just relax, _he told himself, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply. _Think about something nice. Think about the snow._ It had started to spit flurries outside around the time true darkness fell, but nothing more substantial than that. Jak was hopeful that there would be more than just a few flakes before morning, though. They might be in for the first snow of the year, something he had always enjoyed. _Yeah. Think about snow…_

It was easy as anything to summon up an image of home, the barren winter fields covered in white. He and Keira would walk through the woods that bordered the fields, bare trees arching overhead as the snow fell softly among the trunks in giant flakes. The whole world seemed hushed, silent but for the chatter of a blue jay, maybe, or the cawing of a distant crow.

Jak smiled at the thought. It would be winter break soon; a sweet daydream today was next month's very possible reality. He couldn't wait. He missed his uncle, his Keira, and his dog. The one bad thing about going home for the three week recess was that Daxter would be staying on campus.

To make up for the thought of leaving, Jak thought again of his favorite trail through the woods, powdered with new snow, and put Dax there beside the Keira of his imagination. Much better. One of these days he would love to show the city boy redhead that sight for real. How the tracks of deer and raccoons, foxes and rabbits were plain to see in the snow. How the little rills that fed into the creek turned to ice and sparkled like diamonds in the pale winter sun. How the snow clouds haloed a full moon as they blew out, the frosty twilight echoing with the haunting calls of owls.

_Have to get him a real coat first,_ Jak mused idly. _He'd freeze to death otherwise, scrawny little shit. Maybe that's what I can get him for Christmas… _

The soothing tick of the clock on his desk and the soft rustle of a ferret up to no good under the bunk soon worked their magic. The tension slowly seeped from tightly strung muscles as the green-blonde lay for long minutes, staring at the backs of his eyelids, imagining what it would be like to show Daxter all the wonderful sights and sounds of wintertime in the countryside. Jak never noticed how heavy his eyes were getting. He never registered when they drifted shut. That his bunk was soft and warm and mmmm really nice was the last conscious thought that flitted through his mind before he was out like a light, sprawled on rumpled sheets like a satisfied housecat despite the continued grumbling of his stomach.

- / - / - / - / -

"Dear Ximon; sometimes I really hate you!" Daxter snarled under his breath as he finally trudged into the dorm lobby, trailing melting snow. "You are the biggest, slackin'-est wasteoid I ever laid eyes on. Whenever I'm busy, you show up an' distract me an' then Taryn yells at me fer not payin' attention. But whenever I actually need ya, you split. Sometimes I wanna choke you with yer own ball cap. Have fun cleanin' the bathrooms tomorrow, 'cause I sure as hell didn't do it tonight!" The elevator doors slid shut behind him with a ding of finality as he wrapped up his impromptu verbal memo to his coworker.

Would a ride home have been so very much to ask, with the clock ticking on toward half past eleven and a frigging snow storm going on outside? Apparently it was. In the three minutes it took the redhead to tally the cash register and clock out, Ximon had disappeared. Taryn had offered him a ride, but she lived in a small flat above Pizza Haven and left her car in a parking lot several minutes' walk away. A gentleman did not impose on a lady. So Dax had sucked up his hatred of the cold and set off into the snowy night with a stack of pizzas—a stack that he narrowly avoided wiping out with on several occasions, the sidewalks already taking on a slippery sheen of ice.

_Ximon's a good pal an' all,_ Daxter grumbled to himself as he exited the elevator on 3W. _Probably my best friend next ta Jak, even. But sheesh, would it kill the guy ta pay attention once in a while? _

At the door of their room, he fumbled his keys out of his jacket pocket with stiff, frozen fingers and sighed. He would have to go buy a pair of gloves tomorrow. He'd been putting it off, but with snow on the ground it was finally time to face the fact that the cold was there to stay. Walking across campus was only going to get worse as true winter came on.

Bracing the pizzas against the doorframe with his chest, he got the key in the lock without too much fumbling and stepped inside. "Hey, Jak. Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the kind'a night I—" Then he stopped, mid step and mid sentence. At first glance the room seemed deserted. Light was on. Ferret was free. But Jak was where?

A closer look turned up a socked foot hanging off the edge of the bottom bunk. An elbow and a shock of emerald-golden hair could be faintly glimpsed through the slats at the other end. Daxter grinned and shook his head. "Nappin' on the job, huh?" he groused quietly. "Guess I can't blame the big guy too much. I'd fall asleep waitin' on me, too."

He slid the pizza boxes onto Jak's desk haphazardly, stepped over Killer, and poked his head around the bedpost with a loud whisper. "Jak? Hey, Jakkie-boy? I brought some pizza if ya…" Daxter's tongue trailed off as his brain abruptly stopped giving it directions. He froze instinctively and stared.

_Wow. Jak's really… wow._

From the very moment they had met, Daxter had admitted to himself that Jak was attractive. The quarterback was muscular without being too buff. His blonde hair was always the perfect combo of tidy and windswept. His blue eyes always glinted with a smirk or a tease. Jak was Playgirl material and Daxter had acknowledged that fact in the way he acknowledged that grass was green. That had been as far as it had gone, though. At least up until a couple weeks ago.

The redhead couldn't be sure when the first insidious thought had slunk in. _Hey. Jak's pretty hot. And I kinda dig it._ But slink in it did, and once tangled in the recesses of his brain it had clung there like a dandelion's root system and refused to be evicted. He would catch himself eyeing his friend with admiration and curiosity bubbling unchecked, and the problem had only compounded since he had drunkenly decided to lay lips on the guy. He had to avoid looking at Jak's lower half on days when the naturally clingy football uniform made an appearance. Showers were getting downright dangerous. Weird guy-crush-thingie aside, it would ruin everything if Jak caught him staring!

But here, now, right there in front of him, was a very shirtless, very sleeping Jak. One who would never know if a leery redhead stared at him for just a very short minute.

_Oh, shit. I shouldn't. I can't creep on my best bud like that!_ Daxter bit worriedly at his bottom lip, but even as he argued with himself his eyes were eagerly roaming shadowed skin. _…maybe just a quick peek. Like maybe just a couple seconds. _His hands tightened unconsciously around the bunk bed post as he leaned forward silently.

Even so far through autumn, Jak's skin still held the ghost of his summer tan. That skin looked warm and smooth, devoid of the marks Daxter himself was all too familiar with. He wanted to reach out and touch the broad shoulders that nearly spanned the width of the bunk when Jak was lying on his back like that. Give an experimental poke at the pecs that looked hard as a rock. Maybe run his palm down those washboard abs, see if Jak was ticklish at all. He was grinning at the thought when his eyes descended a scant inch more.

He needed to stop staring. He _really_ needed to stop staring. The longer he stared, the seconds ticking by in slow motion, the more his chest tightened. His heartbeat sped. His alarming blush morphed into a warm, all-encompassing full body flush that was more pleasant than anything. And the more he stupidly, crazily, insanely wanted to reach out and gently trace that deep green treasure trail.

A small movement flickered at the edge of Daxter's peripheral vision a nanosecond before Killer flipped the pizza boxes off the desk.

Ferret, pizzas, and cardboard hit the floor with a loud slap and a crash. Jak came awake like a shot, bolting upright even as Daxter reared back in panic and cracked his head against the underside of the bunk hard enough for white spots to bloom across his vision.

"Fuuuck!" All thoughts flew out of his suddenly throbbing head like someone had knocked them out with a Louisville Slugger. Daxter hit his knees right there on the rug, both hands clasped over the back of his head, and buried his face in the edge of Jak's mattress. "Fuck fuck fuckin' fuck—!"

"What happened?!" Jak demanded. He hovered uncertainly in his bunk, sleep-dazed and disoriented, obviously clueless. Good.

"I just broke my skull on the goddamn bed!" Dax snarled, fingers clenching in his hair. That was going to leave a mark. No way that wasn't going to leave a mark. "I was about ta wake ya up an' then yer freakin' ferret scared the hell out'a me an'—"

"Let me see."

Then there were big hands prying his own hands away from the throbbing, rapidly rising bruise. Jak carded his fingers through red hair as carefully as he petted a sleeping ferret, searching out the hurt and checking it over. Daxter went still, breathing shallowly with his eyes closed as the gentle inspection began to ease the clamoring pain.

"Well, you're gonna have a goose egg in the morning, but it's not bleeding. You're not seeing double or anything, are you?"

"Nah." Dax managed a huff of laughter, face still buried in the blanket. "No concussions here, no thanks ta yer weasel."

Killer had long since fled the scene of the crime. Having recovered from the fright of his tumble off the desk, he was peering out from behind his ferret condo with innocent eyes.

Jak's hands lifted away with one last smoothing of Daxter's hair. The redhead looked up and his breath hitched just a little at the concern still evident in sleepy blue eyes. Oh, man. How did people survive crushes on their friends? If Jak got any more cool and caring and perfect Dax was just going to roll over and die.

He cleared his throat awkwardly in the sudden silence. "So. Uh. I brought pizza. Sorry it's so late."

"Huh? Oh, no, it's fine—" Jak's head jerked up, his hand stilling in the middle of sweeping the hair back off his face. "Wait, what time is it?"

Daxter glanced at his watch, absently rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. "Almost midnight."

"Damn it!" Jak groaned loudly. He slid past Daxter and out of the bunk, cursing under his breath. "I can't believe this! Shit, I wasn't supposed to fall asleep. I need to do laundry, and I have homework due tomorrow, and I need to check on Phoenix, and—"

"And you need ta pull yer pants up," the redhead snickered.

Jak's rant cut off instantly. He yanked up the waist of his pants, ears flushing a dark red. "…right."

Daxter knelt and began to gather the upside down pizza boxes to hide the pink in his own cheeks, biting his lip to stifle a horribly unmanly giggle. He might have a headache for the rest of the night, but that had ended better than he had thought it would. Even the pizza was salvageable; the cheese had already been cold from the walk back to Praxis, so its atoms hadn't fused with those of the lid of the box. The night was looking up.

"Settle down an' have some chow, fake jock," he advised, holding out one of the open boxes. "What's got yer undies all up in a twist, anyway? It ain't like you ta put a list'a chores off all evening. Why didn't ya jump on that when you got home from practice?"

"Because today has been an incarnation of the deepest circle of Hell," Jak sighed ruefully. "I didn't get home until about two hours ago. And I definitely didn't mean to take a nap." He grabbed a paper plate from the stack they kept on top of the microwave and dug three slices out of the box. "Thanks for bringing this, I'm starving."

Daxter gaped. "You were at practice fer _seven hours?_ What the heck happened?!"

"It's a long story," Jak managed around a mouthful of pizza. "Me and Phoenix were in the lockers after practice and—" From his desk, his phone buzzed. "Sorry, hang on a second, I bet that's him!" He grabbed it, read the incoming text, and fired one back. "Thank God, something finally happened."

"What? What happened? Will somebody tell me something?!" Dax flailed. Whatever this was it couldn't be good, and he didn't like being in the dark when something was obviously important.

"Yes, okay. You might want to sit down for this one."

Daxter did, dropping down on the edge of Jak's bed without thinking. Before he could second guess his choice of seating Jak had joined him, sitting cross-legged at the opposite end of the tiny bunk with the box of pizza between them. "Alright, big guy, I'm all ears. Lay it on me."

Jak chose another slice and began again. "So, like I was saying. Me and Phoenix were in the lockers after the game, and all of a sudden there was this huge fight out in the parking lot…"

Daxter listened quietly, nibbling intermittently, as the quarterback regaled him with the whole story of what had transpired outside the stadium that day. At first he was more than ready to believe that Razer had been fighting with the football players, given that the guy had thrown him in a closet just a week ago. But when Jak reached the part about _why_ Razer had been fighting, he was forced to open his mouth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, waving the hand that wasn't full of pizza crust. "Time out. She accused him of _what?_"

"Attempted rape." Jak nodded grimly. He had leaned back against the outer bunk bed post and pulled his knees up to loosely rest his arms on them. "Yeah. We couldn't believe it either."

"That's the biggest load'a horse shit I ever heard," Dax said, much louder than should have been necessary for one o'clock in the morning on a weekday. "The guy gets straight A's, so he ain't stupid—no way he'd be moronic enough ta try an' rape a cheerleader, in broad daylight, right outside the goddamn stadium, immediately after practice, with the whole friggin' football team standin' around pickin' at their jockstraps." Not that he thought Razer would do such a thing in a dark alley, either; the older student was surly, and he might have gotten a little rough with the redhead once before, but Daxter was sure that he would never stoop so low. "Plus the fact that anybody who looks at him fer more than three minutes can tell he's battin' fer the other team an' hittin' home runs. Is this chick fer real?"

"That's her story and she's sticking to it," Jak sighed. "But there's no way that would stand up in court. There were witnesses all over the place. Plus, all this happened just out of the fire lane. They were definitely close enough to the building for the security cameras to catch it all." He trailed off, then looked up at Daxter owlishly. "Uh… I don't think I was supposed to say that. So don't go spreading it around, okay?"

"Hey, scout's honor. Who would I tell?"

"Thanks. Phoenix said Razer was released and sent to the hospital. He went to find him and help him get home if they don't keep him overnight. They should be back before much longer."

"Good. Goin' up against all those goons, I bet he did need the ER. An' if they didn't make him post bail, that's a good sign too." Dax reached over the edge of the bed and picked up Killer, bringing the ferret into his lap for an ear scratch. "Sheesh. Drama never slows its roll, does it, weasel face?"

"Dook dook," Killer agreed, and promptly gnawed on his wrist.

- / - / - / - / -

It took almost another full hour for Phoenix and Razer to make it back to the dorm. While he really should have been asleep already, Jak couldn't bring himself to turn in before talking to them for at least a moment. So, perked up by the impromptu nap and the late dinner, Jak made good use of his time while he waited. He ran down to the basement and started the laundry while the redhead tidied their room, then threw himself at his desk and powered through most of his homework. By the time Phoenix texted to let him know that they were in the lobby and coming upstairs, Jak felt almost relaxed.

"Hey, they're here." He poked at Daxter, and together they hurried down the hall to the elevator.

"How bad does he look?" the redhead muttered covertly as they waited. "On a scale of one ta ten?"

Jak was a second too late with his reply. The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.

"Holy shit!" Daxter squawked. "You look like ya got hit by a shuttle bus!"

Jak's palm met his own forehead with a resounding slap. "Way to be tactful, Dax. Nice job with that."

Razer was limping and shuffling like each foot weighed a thousand pounds as Phoenix helped him out of the elevator. His face was mottled with bruises and crisscrossed with cuts. His lip was busted. His ears hung lifelessly in the vicinity of his shoulders. He was also obviously very heavily medicated, but at Daxter's outburst he managed to lift his head a bit and focus glassy green eyes—one of which was surrounded by a lovely shade of purple—on the redhead. "I believe the saying goes, 'you should have seen the other fellows.' Ever charming as usual, miscreant."

Phoenix gave an exhausted but heartfelt laugh. "I'm afraid I have to back that boast, Daxter. I shudder to think how many players he singlehandedly banished to the injury bench for the rest of the season." Hoisting Razer's arm more tightly around his neck, the running back gave his roommate a gentle nudge. "Alright, then, mate. Back to the room with you. Almost there, now."

Jak followed them, silently fretting, as they slowly made their way down the hall. Razer looked even worse now than he had right after the fight. From the looks of him it was hard to understand why he hadn't been admitted to the hospital for the night, at the very least. "If you need anything—I mean that, _anything_—let us know, okay?"

"Want us ta raid the cafeteria freezers?" Daxter asked, trailing alongside Jak. "Swipe all the frozen peas? There's gotta be at least one steak down there we can slap over that eye."

Jak's ears shot up. "Dax, that's actually a great idea."

"Huh? Hey, wait a sec, I didn't mean we should actually loot the cafeteria!"

"Not the frozen foods," Jak huffed with a roll of his eyes, "just the frozen part. I have a bunch of ice packs in our freezer." They came in handy for the superficial scrapes and bruises everyday life on the gridiron dished out. "Want them, Phoenix?"

"If you won't be needing them, I'm sure we can put them to good use."

To Jak's surprise, it was Daxter who darted into their room as they passed and reappeared moments later with the ice packs. By the time they had transferred the packs to their neighbors' mini-fridge, Phoenix was gently depositing a half conscious Razer on the edge of his bunk. That was their cue to make themselves scarce.

"Hang in there, champ," the redhead said as they walked out. "Things always look better in the morning. An' if they don't, hey, that's what the pain pills are for."

Razer grumbled from the bunk, but made no reply.

"Text me tomorrow," Jak whispered to Phoenix. "Good luck." With a thumbs up from the running back, he crept out into the hall and softly shut the door behind him.

Out in the silent, empty hall, Daxter stretched hard. "Well, glad that's over with. Not much more anybody can do now 'cept let the guy sleep it off. That, an' maybe slap a restrainin' order on that cheerleader."

"It's not over," Jak sighed as they walked back to their own roo,. "Half our damn team is hurt just as bad as he is—some of them even worse. And the start of playoffs is three days from now. Somebody's going to be in a lot of trouble for starting this mess, and I'd bet anything it won't be Razer."

"Hope yer right. Hate for him ta get deported cause some nut job skank set him up."

"Really? Even after he locked you in the closet?"

Daxter flipped his ears and pointedly climbed up to his bunk. "Meh. What closet."

Jak chuckled tiredly. Whether his friend chose to admit it or not, he had a big heart. "Whatever you say, Dax."

The redhead glanced down from fluffing his blankets into place and quirked a brow. "It's gettin' awful late, y'know. You might wanna get some sleep yerself."

"I will. I just need to go back down for the laundry first."

"Okay. No complaints when yer alarm starts bitchin' in the morning." Daxter shuffled under his blankets and flopped back onto his pillow. "Be a pal an' hit the lights?" He peeked over the edge with an imploring pout.

Jak bit the inside of his lip in an effort not to smile at how cute that was. "Sure. Goodnight, Dax."

"Night, big guy. Don't worry, tomorrow will be better. It's gotta be."

Jak honestly hoped so. He turned off all the lights except his desk lamp, grabbed the laundry basket, and headed back to the basement. If nothing else, in the wake of the day's unexpected and unwelcome excitement, sitting in lecture the next day would probably feel like a well deserved break while their small group of friends waited for the other shoe to drop.

- / - / - / - / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	15. Chapter 15

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / -/ - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / -

"Order up!" Taryn yelled, sliding a pizza across the counter. "That's table seven ready to go. Deliveries should be up in five!"

"You got it, Tarynator. Let's just hope Ximon's back by then." Daxter deftly grabbed the pizza, careful of the hot pan, and delivered it to table seven with a flourish.

Business had been coming in steadily throughout the evening, a pleasant change from the usual monotony of game nights—monotony that lasted until ten minutes after the game ended and everyone in the stadium made a rush on the local eateries. The change of pace was almost enough to make the redhead forget why he didn't want to be there.

Almost.

"I'm glad you're still speaking to me," Taryn said conversationally as she leaned against the counter, drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Yeah, well. If playoff kickoff had ta be sacrificed for the worthy cause of not losin' my job, I guess it's worth it." Barely. Jak had been crestfallen at the news that his friend wouldn't be at the game, though he hid it well. "After all," Dax made a great show of suffering, the back of one hand pressed dramatically to his brow, "it's not a violation of the Bro Code or anything, leavin' my best pal all alone at the most important game of the season with no one ta cheer him on. Not at all."

His manager was unimpressed. "No one but the thousands of adoring fans who worship the quarterback, you mean?"

"Details. BFF-sies have priority."

Taryn sighed deeply. "Daxter, I am sorry you had to miss the game tonight. I really, truly, deeply, sincerely am. But when we only have four other servers besides yourself and one other cook besides me, it's really no surprise that no one is ever willing to cover."

"I know, I know!" Daxter groaned, draping his upper body across the counter like a disgruntled ferret. "Don't mean it doesn't still suck." He glanced up at her imploringly. "Seriously, babe, could you please hire some more help so the place won't fall apart if I ever need ta take some time off?"

"Welcome to my world," she muttered, rolling her eyes to the grease-spackled ceiling. "Alright, look. I'll take it up with Uncle Osmo. I've been meaning to broach the topic again anyway."

"Think he'll cave this time?" The old business owner, who also happened to be Ximon's father, hadn't been exactly pleased with the last slew of hiring.

"Oh, he can be a stubborn old codger, but something tells me he'll see reason."

"Threatening ta quit on him again, huh?"

"I could manage any establishment in this town and he knows it." Taryn contentedly examined her manicure. "Besides. What would you do as a business owner if your manager told you that your business's entire delivery system depended on _Ximon?_"

Daxter shuddered. "Have a heart attack, narrowly recover, an' reexamine my life choices."

"Well then, there you are. He'll come around." She patted his head indulgently. "Now get off my counter and act professional. And while you're at it… how about you give yourself a two dollar raise. For proving that you're responsible enough to come in when I need you, even though you'd much rather be somewhere else. How does that sound?"

"… sounds like you might be forgiven for makin' me come in when I'd much rather be somewhere else." Maybe he could splurge, casually take Jak out for a steak to celebrate when the team inevitably won the game and advanced in the playoffs.

She swatted the hat off his head. "Smart ass."

"I try." As Dax gathered his hat, the unmistakable sound of a backfiring engine arose from outside. "Sounds like our intrepid delivery crusader's back."

The bells over the door jangled as Ximon stepped in, shaking crystalline drops off his coat. "Hey, dudes and dudettes! Crazy night out there."

"What's up?" the redhead asked eagerly.

Ximon had been listening to the game all evening from the radio in his truck and giving Daxter periodic updates when he came in for more orders. So far the Warriors were behind—the refs were throwing out some pretty shitty calls, if Ximon's reports could be believed—but Jak, Phoenix, and the rest of the players that hadn't been injured or suspended after the Razer fiasco were giving the rival Marauders a run for their money. They could turn it around yet.

"Not good, dude," the blonde reported grimly. "We got ice!" He took off his cap and shook pellets of sleet across the counter.

Taryn shook her head. "I told you the forecast was terrible. I can't believe they haven't called the game yet. But, then again, I suppose that's football. They'll play in all kinds of ridiculous weather."

Ximon nodded, warming his hands over the stack of hot boxes she slid his way. "Sounds like it's been real rough out on the field. Lot of time outs, lot of minor injuries." He glanced up at Daxter and his ears fell almost guiltily. "And, uh. Jak's out."

Daxter stared. "Whadda ya mean, Jak's _out?_"

"I dunno, dude. My radio cuts in and out, y'know? I just heard the announcers talking about some sort of multi-player pile up and they pulled the Haven quarterback off the field. But don't worry, he's not hurt bad," he amended hurriedly at Daxter's panicked expression. "At least I don't guess he is, since he walked off the field by himself. But the coach put Phoenix in as the quarterback for the rest of the game. That's the last I heard. The station cut to a commercial break right before I came in."

Dax could feel his hopes deflating. "Ah, man, that blows! Jak's gonna be so pissed…" His friend was stubborn enough to keep plowing ahead despite the odds, injuries or no. Saying he would be unhappy about getting benched in the middle of the game that determined advancement in the playoffs was an understatement.

"Well, they may still have a chance," Taryn said diplomatically. "After all, Phoenix is an excellent player, too—" In the back, a buzzer sounded. "Hang on, those are the deliveries out of the oven. Saddle up, Ximon!"

The blonde groaned loudly. "But Taryn, it's icy! I'll wreck! There'll be pizzas all over the road!"

"You should have thought of that before you failed out of that fancy college in California, shouldn't you? Just think, you could have been surfing at this very moment…"

Ximon pouted. "That's cruel, 'cos. So cruel."

Daxter rolled his eyes as the two cousins went about boxing the hot orders, bickering all the while. For all the ice and cold, he still wished he could be at the game. Maybe he couldn't do anything more for Jak if he were there than he could while he was stuck in pizza hell, but it would have at least made him feel better to know that he was near enough to help if it was needed.

He glanced at the pizza-shaped clock and huffed a deep sigh. It was going to be a long evening.

- / - / - / - / -

In the hour and a half he had been staring at them, Jak had become intimately acquainted with the walls and ceiling inside the ambulance.

He would have protested much harder when the paramedics first herded him into it, but for the fact that his vision kept doubling and darkening unexpectedly. That, and the damn dizziness would not go away no matter how hard he shook his aching head. Then he had thrown up on that EMT the moment they got his helmet off, there had been a unanimous declaration of "concussion," and that had been that. No more game for Jak.

Luckily, he could still hear the announcers loud and clear from the ambulance in the stadium parking lot, so he knew what was happening on the field. Right up until the bitter, brutal, bloody, icy end of the game. It was decidedly not an end in their favor.

_So much for winning the title my first season,_ he thought sourly.

Oh, sure, his brain knew that he, Phoenix, and the other guys had done the best they could. He recognized that the weather had been working against them, that the officials that night had seemed to hate their team from the get-go to the point that Sig was calling foul play—but his pride was having no excuses. It still hurt. An undefeated season leading up to… this.

"No, sir, he doesn't need to go to the hospital," the paramedic next to him was saying patiently, a phone held almost a foot from his ear to compensate for Jak's uncle shouting on the other end of it. "We're about to release him. He'll just need supervision for the next few hours, someone who could get him to the ER if something were to change, and he'll have to take it easy for a few days—"

The shouting on the other end redoubled.

"Let me talk to him," Jak groaned, grabbing for the phone.

_/"Jak? Jak, is that you? Now don't you worry, my boy, I'll be there in two shakes of a croc's tail—"/ _

"Uncle, if you fly here from Cairo because I bumped my head I will never take you seriously again," the quarterback deadpanned.

_/"Nonsense! A concussion is a serious injury and as your guardian I—"/_

"Come on, Uncle, calm down. The licensed, college-educated medical professionals say I'm going to be okay. It's fine. They just called you to let you know what's going on. Not to make you fly halfway around the planet. Besides, you probably have sunburn and camel bites that are way worse than this that you're not taking care of. I know you."

By the time Jak was able to talk the old man down from an airline website and a major credit card, the pounding in his head had redoubled. All he wanted now was out of his dirty uniform and into his bunk, with a short detour through the shower.

"Can I go now?" he asked tiredly. "The game ended half an hour ago. Everybody's already gone." Mostly gone, anyway. The crowds had thinned dramatically, as they usually did when the entertainment stopped. He needed to get back into the locker room to collect his clothes before everything was locked up for the night.

The medics were agreeable. Jak got his feet under him—harder than it should have been—and gratefully accepted a helping hand out of the back of the ambulance from someone standing outside on the icy pavement. He only belatedly realized who that hand belonged to and blinked up at the man dazedly.

"Coach?"

"Hey there, chili pepper." Sig looked tired, cold, frustrated, anything but happy. But he scraped up a crooked smile. "Came to check on my scratch-and-dent quarterback. How are you feeling?"

"…like I got run over by a shuttle bus," Jak grinned wryly. "Good news; turns out my shoulder isn't actually dislocated, it's just strained. And I have a concussion."

"So I heard. I'll be taking you back to your dorm."

"What?"

"Direct supervision, next twenty-four hours. Paramedics' orders. I already grabbed your gear." Sig held up Jak's coat and gym bag, obviously liberated from his locker with the coach's master key.

The green-blonde laughed, then wished immediately that he hadn't when his head, ribs, and shoulder throbbed in counterpoint. "You shouldn't have to do that. Where's Phoenix? We room right next to each other. Maybe he'll babysit me for a while."

Sig snorted. "He's holed up in the showers by his lonesome throwin' the biggest diaper-baby tantrum I've ever seen." The coach's eyes, though, were understanding. "We'll leave him alone. He obviously needs to get it out of his system. It'll be good for him to punch some lockers and swear. Save him takin' it out on somebody else later."

"I guess you're right." Jak sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Phoenix had been quarterback for most of the last half of the game. Of course he would consider the loss his own fault. "I'll have to talk to him when he calms down."

"Good plan, chili pepper." Sig looked ready for a customary backslap, then appeared to think better of it. "Alright, let's get back inside. This snow, ice, sleet shit—whatever it is, it's ridiculous."

"What's the plan?" Jak asked, stifling a yawn. He took his bag from Sig and gingerly hoisted it over his sore shoulder as they headed back toward the stadium.

"I just have one or two minor details to take care of. You can wait in my office for a few minutes and change while I'm out."

Jak shot him a suspicious look. "Those minor details wouldn't have anything to do with strangling a ref in the darkest corner of the parking lot, would they?"

"What? No!" Sig balked, almost managing to look properly offended by the suggestion. "What makes you say that?"

"I had double vision when I was walking off the field, not sudden severe hearing loss. Your threats aren't exactly quiet, Coach."

Sig wagged a huge finger at him firmly. "You heard _nothing, _you hear me?"

"Punch him once for me and I will deny everything to the cops."

"That's my boy."

Inside the stadium, they went their separate ways. Jak was none too keen on meeting anyone who might still be hanging around inside. Fans, cheerleaders, his own teammates—he would have to face them sooner or later, along with their concern, their consolations, maybe even their anger. But not right now. Right now he just wasn't up to it. So he took the long way around through the back halls and came out near the locker rooms, only a few doors down from the coach's office.

He ran smack into Razer.

They blinked at each other for a moment, Razer's emerald eyes widening in surprise behind the ring of black and blue bruising.

"Uh, hey," Jak finally found the sense to say. "I didn't expect to see you here." Razer was much more mobile than he had been only three days ago, but he wasn't completely recovered, either, not by a long shot. Not even enough to be sitting in the cold bleachers for hours, Jak would have thought. "You feeling okay?"

"I could say the same for you," Razer countered, quickly recovering from his own surprise. "You took a nasty hit out there."

Jak grinned. "I'm fine. Just a little banged up."

"And I could say the same of myself," Razer sassed with the ghost of a smile.

"Good to hear," the quarterback laughed. He glanced at the locker room door, the other's obvious destination. "Looking for Phoenix, huh?"

"Indeed. Something tells me the idiot boy might need a dose of reason injected into his foul mood."

Jak couldn't help being a bit skeptical. "Good luck with that. Apparently he's on the war path." But, really, if anyone had a chance of getting through to Phoenix, it would be his roommate. The two seemed to click, as unlikely a pair of friends as they seemed.

Speaking of friends. He should probably call Daxter.

"Really, though. Good luck. I'll catch you guys later." With a last nod to Razer, Jak cut down the hall and into Sig's office. The beat up old couch in there was calling his name. It would be an excellent place to crash while he waited for his coach to return.

- / - / - / - / -

As expected, the usual rush descended on Pizza Haven right on schedule. Even with the bad weather, there was no shortage of work for Daxter. When his phone went off in his pocket and he saw Jak's number, though, he dropped what he was doing. Literally. The pile of pizza trays fell into the sink with a clatter.

"Taryn, I'm goin' on break!" he yelled, grabbing his coat from behind the counter.

"What?" She looked up in a panic from the register, in front of which a sizable line had formed. "No, wait, you can't go _now_—!"

Too late. The redhead was already out the door. He slid a bit on the slick sidewalk, but recovered quickly as he hurried around to the alley at the side of the restaurant. There he could huddle up in the lee of the building, mostly out of reach of the biting wind and driving sleet.

"Hello?" he gasped.

_/"Hey, Dax."/_

"Jak! Hey, what's up? Are you okay? Ximon said ya got hurt."

_/"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bruised shoulder and a minor concussion."/_

"Concussion?!" Dax shrieked before he could stop himself. "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?"

Jak groaned so loudly Daxter could clearly hear it over the stay gusts of wind whipping past the speaker. _/"I just said it's a __**minor**__ one. I'm fine."/_

"But concussions are, like, brain damage an' aneurisms an'—"

_/"Daxter, I swear to God, calm down. I already went through this song and dance with my uncle and I'm about to go through it again with Keira, so don't you even think about freaking out over this. I. Am. Fine."/_

There was a moment of silence as Daxter's brain tried to organize itself. "… you called me before Keira?"

_/"Uh, yeah."/_

"Oh. Okay." The flutter that information caused was absurd. Focus, Daxter, focus! "Do you, uh, need anything? Do I need ta leave early?" He still had two hours left on the clock. As much as she liked him, Taryn would probably fire him if he walked out now. "Cause if ya need me to I'll come home, okay?" Screw it. Priorities, man.

_/"No, it's okay. Sig's going to hang out with me until you get back. Thanks for offering, though."/_

Daxter let out a silent sigh of relief. Sig. Sig was good. He was big enough to manhandle Jak upright if he somehow blacked out, or drive him to the hospital if he started to seize or something. Sig could take care of Jak. "Well, aren't you just the coach's pet? Careful, Jakkie-boy. If word of yer illicit relationship gets around it could put the entire football program in jeopardy!"

_/"Oh my God. You are sick, you know that?"/_

"Hey, I'm not knockin' yer life choices, I'm just sayin' you should be careful about it, y'know? Only because I care, Jak."

_/"He reminds me of my DAD, you psycho!"/_

"Like I said, no judgment here. If Sig fulfills yer daddy issues then power to ya, big guy."

_/"I am hanging up on you,"/_ Jak threatened, the mortification obvious in his voice.

Daxter couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he imagined how red his friend's ears had to be. Jak was adorable when he got indignant. "Yeah, I need ta get back inside anyway. I left Taryn stranded at the register. If I don't make it home tonight she killed me an' threw my body in the dumpster, okay?"

_/"I will not call the police. I will not come looking for you. I will give your bed to my ferret."/_

"See ya later, Jak," Daxter sang cheerfully, and hung up, reassured that everything was going to be alright.

- / - / - / - / -

If Jak had thought it might be awkward to spend time with his coach in a non-athletic situation, those fears were soon put to rest. Sig had a good, if mostly quiet, sense of humor. He also treated his players like people rather than seeing students as lower life forms the way some professors and graduate instructors did.

"I haven't been in a dorm in years," Sig mused as they stepped off the elevator on 3W. Fear of recurring dizziness on Jak's part had kept them off the stairs. "Kind of makes me nostalgic." They passed a room with a blasting stereo, then one in which a screaming argument was loudly, obviously in progress. "Y'know. Almost."

"Yeah, it gets pretty old. I'm looking forward to going home for a while next month." Jak unlocked the door and stepped into his room tiredly. He had managed to fall asleep on the couch in Sig's office after talking to Keira, but the coach had woken him up as soon as he'd come back. Something about not sleeping after concussions. Which was bound to be a problem sooner than later that night, because right then all the green-blonde wanted was a hot shower and—

"What in the world is this?"

Sig was leaning over the ferret cage.

Shit! He had completely forgotten about trying to hide Killer! "Um… I, uh… I found him out by the dumpsters during move in week, and…" Jak's ears fell. "Please don't report my ferret?"

Sig laughed loudly. "Don't worry, chili pepper, your secret's safe with me. My roommate had a rabbit when I was a student. Hell, he smuggled it out of the bio lab under his coat one day. Was a real bleeding heart. We kept that little cotton ball hid from sophomore year 'til graduation." A pointed nose wedged between the bars and he tapped at it with a chuckle.

"Oh." Jak was immeasurably relieved. The last thing he needed to cap his bad day was Torn showing up to confiscate his pet. He dropped down on the edge of the bunk and began the arduous process of unlacing his shoes. "Your roommate sounds like a nice guy."

"Oh, he is. Most neurotic kid I ever met, though, that Vin. Went totally white by the time he got his doctorate. He still teaches here, matter of fact."

"Professor Vin? In the tech department? Me and Dax have a class with him next semester!"

"Small world, ain't it? I'll put in a good word for you two. Maybe he won't hack your computers with really annoying automatic pop-up reminders to do your homework every night." Sig chuckled evilly. "They're impossible to turn off or debug."

Jak almost expressed his disbelief, but there were enough rumors floating around about Vin being an unrivaled tech wizard that he actually did believe it. It was said that the unassuming professor could run the computer and electronics systems of the entire campus from a single room, while expending most of his concentration on Minecraft.

Sig's hand fell to the cage latch. "You mind if I take this little fella out for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure, if you don't mind him pulling your shoelaces. We usually let him run when we're here."

In another moment Killer was war dancing circles around Sig, back arched in a perfect hump, chattering like mad.

"Well, isn't that cute. What's his name?"

"Killer. Destroyer of cat toys, mauler of rugs, bane of small, unattended possessions everywhere."

"Don't that beat all." Sig sat down in Jak's desk chair, furry slinky hot on his heels. As soon as he was sitting, Killer grabbed onto his pants and started to scale his leg. "I didn't realize ferrets were so friendly."

Jak watched in amusement as his coach was given the once over. "He normally isn't. It takes him a few tries to get used to people." At least, that's how it had been with Phoenix, Razer, and Ximon, the only others who had actually seen him.

Now exploring the coach's lap, Killer stuck his head up Sig's sleeve.

"I dunno, maybe he likes how you smell."

"Old Spice fan, huh?" Sig plucked Killer off his chest, held him up, and looked very seriously at Jak. "Does your coach look like me? Probably not. But he could smell like me, if he used Old Spice body wash instead of whatever soap he found melting in the locker room shower drain. Look down. Now back up. I'm holding a ferret."

Jak laughed so hard he went dizzy again for a second. "You missed your calling, Coach."

"Oh, now, don't say that, I got a lot invested in this coaching gig." Sig set Killer back on the floor gently. "Some days it hardly seems worth it, but…" He glanced at Jak and smiled. "You did good out there tonight, kiddo. You've done good all season and worked your ass off to do it. I'm proud of you."

Even if Jak wasn't exceptionally proud of himself at the moment, it was still nice to hear. "Thanks."

"I told the whole team as much while you were chillin' in the ambulance, but I'm especially proud of you. And Phoenix. I'll tell him as soon as I'm sure he won't bite my head off when I do."

"He'll probably feel better in the morning. Let him sleep it off." Hopefully by then whatever pep talk Razer have given him would have had time to sink in, too.

Jak stood and stretched hard. He was already starting to stiffen up. That didn't bode well for how sore he would be in the morning. He crossed to the wardrobe on a quest for clean bed clothes, stepping around a ferret dragging a half empty water bottle.

"What's up?" Sig asked, halting the progression of the water bottle with one foot.

"I think I'm going to shower and head to bed. Thanks for hanging out with me, Coach."

"Shower, yes. Bed, no."

Jak looked back over his shoulder, clean shirt in hand. "What?"

"You can't sleep for at least another hour and a half. Concussion precautions. Technically I have to escort you to the shower, too. If the heat makes you pass out and you hit your head again I'm draggin' your ass to the ER."

"I am not going to pass out!" Jak yelled. "What is everybody's deal?!"

Sig shrugged. "No deal. No big one, anyway. You just shower, do your thing, and I'll sit on the bench an' listen for the thud. We can talk about what you're going to do with yourself now that football's off the table until training camp next summer."

The quarterback stifled a groan with his armload of clothes. Nothing could be easy, could it? Glaring at the clock over the top of his sleep pants, he huffed. At least Daxter would be home soon.

- / - / - / - / -

This time, Daxter made sure to get a ride from Ximon when they closed down for the night. Ensuring said ride might have involved cornering a delivery guy and throwing out an "If you don't wait fer me before ya book it out'a here tonight I swear ta God I will tell Taryn you've been eatin' pepperonis out'a the package again!" but he was sure circumstances warranted such extreme measures.

By the time he got back to the dorm the redhead was on auto-pilot. He dashed through the lobby, ran up the stairs, burst out of the stairwell, and crashed full into Torn.

"Slow it down!" Torn bellowed, cafeteria chicken nuggets bouncing around his feet. There was a smear of ketchup on his shirt. "How many times do I have to tell you little brain-dead bastards, no running in the building?!"

Dax didn't hesitate to exercise the one finger salute. "Sit on it an' twirl, Tattooed Wonder!" Before the RA could respond he made a dash for the safety of their room. He had more important things to worry about just then.

At the door to their room, he made himself pause. He sucked in a deep breath to calm the slight pant that running all the way from the sidewalk outside had left him with. _Just keep it cool, Daxxie. Keep it cool. Can't make it obvious you ran up here ta be with him. _He ignored the tightening of his chest at the thought of Jak, hurt and maybe needing him, and unlocked the door with forced nonchalance.

"Hey, guys. Hope ya didn't start the party without me."

Coach Sig glanced up from where he lounged in Jak's desk chair. Killer was on his lap, a paw held in each of the man's big hands. Sig had, apparently, been making him dance. "Hey there, cherry. Glad you made it in alright. Looks like the ice isn't letting up much."

"Nah, it's slicker than snot out there." Daxter kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his coat, and looked to the sprawled form on the bottom bunk. "How ya holdin' up, Jakkie-boy?"

Face down in his pillow, Jak offered no response.

Sig glanced over, then frowned. "He was awake two minutes ago. I swear, can't take my eyes off that kid." He sat up straighter and leaned toward the bunks. "Hey! Wake up, you!" he barked sharply.

Jak jumped like Sig had used his coaching whistle, ears flying straight up in shock. "I wasn't sleeping, I swear!" Bloodshot blue eyes were wide as his hands clenched reflexively in the pillowcase.

Daxter clicked his tongue in sympathy. "How much longer you gotta stay awake?"

Sig glanced at his watch. "Just another twenty, thirty minutes. Realistically, it's probably fine, but hey. Better safe than sorry." With one last scratch to the bendy small of Killer's back, the coach lifted him to the floor and stood. "Here's where I hit the dusty trail. Daxter, I'm leaving him in your capable hands."

The redhead twiddled with the coat still in his hands, suddenly nervous. He wasn't used to being the one in charge. Very rarely was he considered capable in any capacity. People never _depended_ on him for anything. "Uh, what do I do?"

"Let me sleep!" Jak moaned, face back in the pillow.

Sig pointedly ignored him. "Just keep him awake another half hour. That's all. Don't let him sleep abnormally long in the morning, either. If he looks confused when he wakes up ask him obvious questions—what day is it, which class he has first on Tuesday, that kind of stuff. If he can't answer right or he can't see and walk straight, get him to the health center ASAP. Got it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Have a good night, cherries."

Killer chased Sig to the door, then looked almost forlorn when it was closed in his face.

Dax snickered. "Hey, Jak, I think weasel-face is sweet on yer coach. He didn't want him ta leave!" No response. "Jak?"

The green-blonde had dozed off again, courting suffocation in his pillow. One arm hung limp over the end of the bunk. His ears flopped to the sides, perfectly lax in his exhaustion.

Daxter sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was wake his friend up. Jak had had a shitty day for the record books and all he really needed was a good night's sleep. But, as Sig had said, better safe than sorry. "Jak? Come on, pal, ya gotta stay up! Just a little bit longer, okay?" He shook Jak's shoulder.

The quarterback burrowed deeper with a displeased sounding mutter.

Dax angled his ears back. O-kay. Obviously the nice approach wasn't going to cut it. "Okay, I think I know what the problem is. You gotta get out'a bed if yer gonna have a prayer of stayin' awake. Let's go, big guy. Up, up, up!" He grabbed the wrist that was hanging off the bed, pulled, and—absolutely nothing happened. It was like a Papillion trying to budge a German shepherd. The redhead groaned. "Jak, please, ya gotta work with me, here! Just twenty more minutes. After that I will tuck ya in an' read ya a bedtime story, I swear!"

There was a slow, rumbling growl, the likes of which usually preceded Godzilla rising out of the boiling sea. Slowly, very slowly, Jak shuffled around until he could swing his legs off the bunk. It took a few seconds, but his upper body followed. He perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, eyes fighting to stay open.

"Yes, upright! Upright is a good start!" Dax cheered.

"You are so lucky I like you," Jak mumbled, head already nodding.

He really, truly was. It sucked to be woken up or kept from sleeping, as Daxter was reminded each and every weekday morning. That Jak could swat him like a fly and go right back to sleep, but was choosing to listen to him instead, spoke volumes on their friendship.

"Hey, pal, I got an idea."

"Hn?"

"I gotta grab a quick shower, brush my teeth, all that fun stuff. Come hang out with me while I do. By the time I get through it'll be time fer you ta catch some zees, alright?"

Jak thought it over, ears perking just a bit from their lifeless droop. "…and then you'll leave me alone?"

"Cross my heart. Sleep aaaall night an' no alarm in the morning."

With a tiny noise of agreement, the quarterback hoisted himself off the bed. It was a momentous effort. "Okay. Let's do this thing."

Daxter made quick work of scrambling for his change of clothes and soap basket, but Jak didn't change his mind. In fact, the walk down the hall seemed to jumpstart his brain back into gear. A low gear, granted, but a gear higher than neutral. By the time they reached the showers he was speaking more than one sentence at a time. By the time Daxter was soaping up, they were laughing together through the shower curtain as Jak regaled him with the story of decorating an EMT's shoes with puke. And by the time Dax was toweling his hair dry, they were discussing where around the stadium Sig could have potentially hidden the body of a crooked referee.

It was five minutes past the end of Jak's imposed sleeping ban when they got back to their room.

Unsurprisingly, Jak went straight to his bunk and collapsed like a falling tree. Daxter narrowly resisted the urge to yell "Timber!" as the green-blonde bounced on crappy bunk bed springs. Instead he hung up his damp towel without comment and put his robe back where it belonged. When he turned back to the bunks, Jak already looked asleep.

The redhead stood for a long moment, suddenly twitchy. Then he crept forward.

"Jak?" he whispered, mindful of his promise to leave his friend alone. "Hey, Jak? Jakkie-boy?"

"Hmm." Not asleep, but heading there fast.

Daxter snuck to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees on the rug, staring pensively at the flopped out form of the quarterback. "… sorry."

Jak lifted his head enough to perk an ear. "Huh?"

"I said I'm… sorry."

That seemed to get Jak's attention. He turned his head and opened one eye, then seemed surprised to see Daxter so close. "Why're you sorry?"

A more accurate question would be, why _wouldn't_ he be sorry? It hurt to see his friend so tired, so sore, so out of it. Jak should have been tired in a good way, after a night of accolades and celebration. Daxter's ears flagged. "I wasn't at the game tonight ta cheer you on. I was at stupid work. An' then you got hurt. An' you guys lost. An' I wasn't there. M'sorry."

"Dax, none of that's your fault," Jak argued quietly. They were less than a foot apart, voices almost whispers. Surely their dear RA who was always telling them to shut the hell up would have had a coronary at the sight.

"Yeah, but…" He bit lightly at his bottom lip, searching for a way to make Jak understand why he felt he had let him down. "You said I was yer good luck charm."

Jak's eyes widened. He stared at the redhead for one blink. Two.

Daxter flushed. Okay, that was a really stupid thing to say. That made no sense whatsoever. Why had that made sense in his head? He started to stand up, climb up in his own bed and act like this awkward conversation had never happened—but he couldn't, because suddenly something was impeding his exit. Jak's hands shot forward to grip his upper arms, so big they nearly wrapped around his biceps. Then the quarterback yanked.

"Ack!" Daxter yelped in surprise as he tumbled into Jak's bunk and landed on his back among the blankets, almost doing a full somersault over his friend with the force of Jak's tug. "Jak, what the hell?!"

"Stay."

"What?"

"I said, stay," Jak clarified, but he was already sinking back into prime sleeping position. "I'm cold, I'm tired, I hurt, I feel like shit. If you're so sorry for something you have no reason to apologize for, you can stay there and keep me company."

Daxter struggled upright, perched uncertainly between Jak and the wall. "Uh… y'mean, like… sleep here? All night?"

"Mmm." A flip of long ears. One of which was bruising at the base, blending into the bigger bruise that was forming along Jak's temple where he had taken the hardest hit.

The redhead swallowed tightly. _Oh man. Oh man, oh man, oh man. Should I? _

He was well and truly caught. On the one hand, sharing a bed with the guy he was guy-crushing on was a bad idea right off the bat; an unlimited source of potential embarrassment. That should have been more than enough to deter him. But even knowing that, Daxter couldn't just forget about how nice Jak had been to him last month during what he had christened the Night of the Epic Thunderstorm Fail. It had felt so good to hide in the bunk, tangled up with Jak, knowing that as bad as things seemed, someone had his back. He _owed_ Jak.

_Jak's not used ta bein' alone, either,_ he realized dimly. _He's probably always had his uncle ta take care of him when he's down fer the count. Maybe his Keira girl always cuddled up when he didn't feel good. What if it'd really make him feel better? _Daxter had seen enough nature programs to know that a pack animal taken out of its pack didn't simply become a lone wolf; it pined for contact.

Well, that thought settled that. Resolutely he squirmed under the blankets and threw an arm around Jak's ribs. "Never say I don't care about yer welfare, Jakkie-boy," he muttered, hoping his nervousness didn't echo in his voice.

Jak chuckled quietly, a rumble Daxter could feel in his chest where it pressed against Jak's back. Gah, that was hot. Hot hot hot, why did it have to be so hot, aaaand—he needed to stop thinking about that before that unlimited potential embarrassment became not so potential. Dax closed his eyes tightly and concentrated instead on how the tension that had lingered in Jak's shoulders evaporated as they settled in, melting into the same warm pocket under the covers.

"Uh, Jak?"

"Hn?"

"The light's still on." The lamp on Jak's desk glowed, the only light in the shadowed room.

"Leave it on," Jak mumbled, obviously giving a total of zero damns.

"Yer ferret's still out."

"Leave him out."

Daxter sighed, the breath ruffling Jak's long hair. Maybe the light could stay on without issue, but leaving a marauding weasel loose all night just sounded like a bad idea. Who knew what kind of havoc the little monster would wreck while they were sleeping—

Jak stretched minutely, the bare skin of his back brushing Daxter's chest through the redhead's thin tee-shirt and leaving warm, shivery tingles in its wake. The quarterback's arm shifted just enough to overlap the one Daxter had across his chest.

Okay. So. Getting up wasn't happening. Daxter offered a silent prayer to whatever deity protected dorm rooms from the jaws of destructive ferrets. Very carefully he stretched out the arm that wasn't being held hostage and groped through the bunk bed slats until he found the cord of the desk lamp. After a little fumbling he managed to get a hold of the on/off switch, blinking the room into darkness.

"G'night, fake jock."

Jak offered a mumble that might have been words, but he was already too far gone, the day catching up to him hard and fast.

Daxter lay awake a while longer, staring out at the shadows, listening to the rustles and squeaks of Killer getting up to who knew what. He felt protective curled around Jak, warm and cozy. He could definitely get used to this.

And that thought scared the hell out of him.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	16. Chapter 16

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

"Sooo, Jak."

"Hmm?"

"Word on the street is, there's gonna be another party next week right before Thanksgiving break. Are we gonna go?"

Jak groaned. Flat on the floor with a ferret using his sore back as a runway and springboard, roughhousing on frat row was the last thing he wanted to think about. "Bluh, party."

Daxter's toes made contact with his leg and started to poke. "Oh, come on, fake jock! We had fun at the last one!"

With a sigh Jak rolled over, grimacing as he did. The worst part of getting hurt in a game wasn't the initial injury; it was the residual pain and stiffness that lingered for most of the next week and made even the simplest movements an effort. While his brain was still bitter with how the season had ended too soon, his abused body was protesting that the season hadn't ended soon enough. He made a grab for the offending foot, but sore muscles meant he was just a little too slow.

Daxter squealed as Jak's hand closed around his toes rather than the whole foot he'd been aiming for. The redhead pulled back, curling his legs protectively underneath himself where he sat on Jak's bunk. The quarterback was left with only a handful of sock for his efforts.

"Party, huh," he mused, letting the sock drop to the rug beside him.

"Yes, party!" Daxter whined playfully, leaning forward again to look down at him. "Ya can't tell me the Halloween bash wasn't hella fun, cop-fleeing notwithstanding. Can we go ta this one? Pretty please?"

"Dax, no offense, but partying is the last thing I feel like doing right now." Jak squirmed his strained shoulder against the rug in illustration. He had been lucky to keep his arm out of a sling on that one.

Daxter frowned. "Yeah, I guess not. You need any more meds? Hot pack? Cold pack? Cup'a coffee? Anything?"

Jak fought back a grin. Since he had been hurt on Saturday, Daxter had for all intents and purposes appointed himself Jak's personal attendant. He had been handing the green-blonde painkillers at appropriate intervals without being asked for them, warming up hot packs whenever he deemed it necessary, and even doing meal runs to the downstairs cafeteria so Jak wouldn't have to leave the room.

The redhead had gone so far as trying to talk Jak out of going to class that morning because "yer still recovering—all that hard thinkin' can't be good fer a concussion!" All in all it was kind of nice to be waited on hand and foot, even if it was unnecessary and unasked for. In a way Jak was enjoying being pampered and fussed over so much. Keira would have lovingly told him to suck it up and fetch his own grilled cheese after the first day.

Jak didn't realize he was staring up at his roommate with a goofy grin on his face until Daxter cocked his head confusedly and quirked a brow. "Uh, I'm fine, Dax. Thanks."

"Yeah, well, if ya need anything just tell me."

_You could kiss it better,_ Jak almost teased, but he managed to rein in the impulse. That also took some effort. He was having a harder and harder time keeping his subtle flirting subtle lately.

He had woken up the morning after what had already been christened the Game from Hell to Daxter using his chest as a pillow. Jak had let himself play with a wild mop of red hair for the few minutes until Dax had woken up—and did not run screaming from the bunk, but simply rolled over and grumbled about the lack of space. Best Sunday morning ever.

Jak was shaken from fond memories of warm bunks when Daxter lunged forward with a yelp.

"Jak, hey, he's takin' off with my sock!"

Sure enough, Killer had weaseled up to grab the sock Jak had thoughtlessly dropped. The green-blonde rolled over and grabbed without thinking. His shoulder screamed in protest; a sharp pain from his lower back screeched in counterpoint. "Oww, fuck!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Daxter squeaked from the bunk, looking down at him in alarm.

"It's not your fault." Jak shifted the tenuous hold he had managed to get on his squirming ferret and pulled the sock out of Killer's mouth. "Stop stealing stuff, you little shit." He swatted a furry hind end for good measure, making his pet hump away with a series of offended dooks.

Daxter reached down to reclaim his sock with ears low.

"Seriously, it's not your fault," Jak said. "I'll feel better in a couple days." He smiled reassuringly. "I know I'll be fine by next week. And then we'll go to that party. Okay?"

Long, freckled ears popped up again. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's cool. Halloween really was a lot of fun. Just be prepared, though. This thing is the day before Thanksgiving break. Don't be surprised if somebody lets a live turkey go in the frat house. And Jinx is already talking about mixing those weird turkey and stuffing flavored sodas into his drink specials."

"Eww!" the redhead shrieked, obviously delighted. "I dunno if Jinx is a brilliant mixologist or a mad scientist with no taste buds."

Jak rolled his eyes. "He's what happens when a chemist starts mixing things that aren't chemicals. Rarely turns out as good as they think it will."

"Sounds like fun times ta me, pal! We just gotta get you feelin' better by next week."

"Yeah." Jak thought about all the things that had helped in the past—regular painkillers, heat packs, moderate exercise in the weight room to help keep his muscles from staying locked up. So far he had been doing all of that. "I wonder if they offer massages or something at the Physical Wellbeing Center," he mused.

"Wassat?" Daxter asked, popping into view again as he peeked down from the bunk.

"I used to be able to get Keira to walk on my back and rub my neck for me I when I was sore. That really helps."

The redhead wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Walkin' on yer back? Sounds painful."

"It's really not. It feels great. Especially when the person is small, like Keira. She's even smaller than you—" Oh. Shit. Probably not something he should have said. Jak slowly closed his mouth.

Too late. Daxter was pouting down at him, blue eyes narrowed and ears flat. "What'd you just say, fake jock?"

Jak rolled over and buried his grin in his arms. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

"No, no, I think ya did. I think ya just said that this chick is _even_ smaller than me. Thereby implying that _I_ am abnormally small. Is that what I heard?"

The quarterback bit his lip not to laugh. "Well, Dax, I'm not all that tall compared to Phoenix… or Razer… or Torn… or a lot of guys. But next to you, I'm not exactly vertically challenged…"

Daxter slid off the bunk and planted a socked foot in the small of Jak's back. "You are treading some dangerous waters right now Blondie!"

"Look, all I'm saying is that you might be the right size for rich women to carry around in their expensive handbags—"

"You are such an ass!" Daxter yelled indignantly. "Forget walkin' on yer back, I'm gonna do a damn riverdance on it!"

"That's kind of fitting, actually. You're a redhead, you've got freckles, you're really short—"

The foot on his back pressed down, hard. Jak's laugh cut off at once, replaced by a hiss as Daxter's heel dug into the knot that had been bothering him all day. Then the beautiful pressure vanished.

"Sorry, sorry!" Daxter flailed, tripping over himself in his haste to get off. "I didn't mean ta actually hurt ya!"

Jak groaned into his arms. "Daxter. That did not hurt. Not at all, not in any way. And, all joking aside, if you have a merciful bone in your body you will walk on my back."

Though the redhead was still clearly unconvinced, he crept back up. The foot returned—much more gently. "Okay, big guy. Yer the boss, I guess. How hard?"

"Just stand on me. I'll tell you where and how hard."

Daxter did. The weight increased until, with a wobble, the smaller boy grabbed the edge of the top bunk frame to stay balanced as he stepped onto Jak's back with both feet. "That good?"

"Very," Jak breathed tightly. "Now move up just a little bit—"

What followed was a surprisingly coordinated and effective effort. Jak told Daxter where to step, how hard to press, how much weight to apply. Daxter followed his instructions perfectly, never going near the injured shoulder, lapsing into giggling fits at the relieved sounds Jak was unable to keep muffled in the rug. Sure it might have looked pretty silly, but it was getting a job done that nothing else had been able to accomplish.

Several minutes later Jak gasped as he felt the biggest knot finally release. "Okay. Okay, I think that's good. Thanks."

Daxter's weight left his back. "Hey, no problem. It's not everybody that gets ta walk all over the quarterback."

Then, something Jak hadn't been expecting. Instead of stepping away, Daxter stepped forward. And sat down on him. The green-blonde's ears flipped up in surprise. "What're you doing?"

"Well, I figured since we got the spa theme goin' here I might as well see if I can do somethin' about yer shoulders while I'm at it." The redhead sounded completely unconcerned as his hands landed on the back of Jak's shoulders and started to knead; obviously clueless about how a proper massage should be given but enthusiastically ready to adlib it.

"Oh." Well, who was going to refuse an offer like that? Jak relaxed back into the rug, content to let Daxter do his thing.

The hands on his back wandered, getting acquainted with the territory. The technique used wasn't so much technique as it was indiscriminate poking and kneading, but it felt good regardless. Almost as good as his friend's warm weight straddling his lower back. If football players could purr, Jak was sure he would sound like a contented barn cat.

"Y'know, it almost makes me sick," Daxter began conversationally.

"What does?"

"The fact that it's practically winter an' yer still tan. That is grossly unfair and I protest."

Jak chuckled. "Sorry?"

"No yer not. Yer not sorry at all. Y'know why yer not sorry? It's cause under all those levels of fakeness, the foundation—" his hands left Jak's deltoids to land momentarily on his triceps "—is pure, muscled, unadulterated jock. I mean, look at this! Your freaking _back_ is ripped!"

"Are you trying to insult me or compliment me?" Jak asked wryly. "Because most people would take that as a damn good compliment."

There was sudden, shocked silence from behind him. Daxter snatched his hands off Jak's arms and went back to his spine, but the damage had already been done. Jak's curiosity and hope got the better of him. He peeked back over his shoulder, only to see the redhead staring intently down at his task. Daxter was blushing furiously.

Jak opened his mouth, on the verge of saying something, anything.

Daxter glanced back up and scowled, turning even redder as he caught Jak looking. "What?"

"Nothing." Jak knew better than to push his luck. He dropped his head back to the rug, but his grin could not be contained.

Maybe without even realizing it, Daxter had been honestly complimenting him. Dax had so been complimenting him and Jak had called him on it. The quarterback wanted to do a victory dance, except that he was, you know, pinned under his roommate. His roommate, who now stood firmly with an eighty-three percent chance of returning the awkward guy crush feels. Fuck. Yes.

Now… what was he going to do about it?

Under normal circumstances—Keira circumstances—Jak knew exactly what he would do. He would enjoy the rubdown, return the favor, and then offer a happy ending. And he would probably be taken up on that offer. But in this case, he was stumped on how to proceed. Unless.

_Maybe… maybe that could work this time, too? _he thought, searching for possibilities._ I mean, Dax isn't Keira, but I could still offer to return the favor. If he says no, no big deal. If he says yes, at the very least he'll get to relax a little, too. And if he __**really **__likes the massage…_

Jak tried to cut those thoughts off at the pass, but by the time Daxter finished his impromptu back rub, warm palms skimming over smooth skin, the quarterback was half hard and trying not to squirm.

"That feel any better?" Daxter asked, dismounting Jak's lower back to sit beside him on the rug, head cocked in innocent curiosity.

Jak took a few seconds to plan how he was going to get up without advertising his predicament to his blissfully unaware roommate. In the end he did a passably casual pushup and settled cross legged next to Daxter, who seemed none the wiser. Thank God for baggy sweatpants. "Yeah, that felt really great. Thanks."

The redhead visibly puffed with thinly-concealed pride. "No sweat. Maybe I should start my own shiatsu massage an' back-walkin' parlor. Get some fancy bottles of oil, a few candles, start pipin' soothing Tibetan meditation music in here."

"I can't imagine Razer would be alright with soothing Tibetan meditation music piping into his study time," Jak chuckled.

"Meh, he'll just crank up his German operas an' drown it all out," Dax grinned with a flip of his ears. "I think it'll be cool. Get a new hobby an' some extra cash flow comin' in at the same time! Except fer you, Jak. Roommates don't have to pay."

Ah-ha. An opening. "That doesn't seem very fair. How about I pay you back by equal exchange?"

"Whadda ya mean?"

"You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," Jak said lightly. "Or rub, as the case may be. How about it?" He flexed his hands demonstratively.

Daxter stared at him, wide eyes darting from Jak's face down to his hands and back again. "Like, what, y'mean you wanna rub _my_ back? Right now?"

"Sure. You've been breaking your neck to take care of me since Saturday night. My back feels better than it has in a week. The least I can do is return the favor." Jak did his best to sound unconcerned as he made the offer. Nonchalance. Nonchalance was the key.

"Well, I… I guess… maybe that'd be alright—I mean, I never actually—" The redhead was saying a whole lot of nothing in his stammered rambling, but somehow Jak knew exactly what he meant. The restless fingers plucking at the neck of his tee-shirt spelled it out like a neon sign at dusk.

"You don't have to take your shirt off to get a massage," Jak said. "You don't have to do it at all. Just thought I'd offer."

"No, no!" Daxter yelped, half reaching out like Jak might jump up and walk away mortally offended. "I think I'd kind'a… like that? I mean, it looks like it feels pretty nice. Just, y'know. Be kind'a careful. Yer a lot stronger than I am." The faint flush across freckled cheekbones was telling. "I've gotten pretty used ta not gettin' pounded on these last few months an' I'm out'a practice bein' tenderized."

Jak smiled reassuringly, but the reminder that Dax was used to physical contact not being a pleasant experience was sobering. "Hey, I swear. You tell me how hard to press just like I told you how hard. No tenderizing." He grinned wider. "I'll be as soft as I would pet those little baby otters from Youtube." Among all the cute cat pictures and links to adorable animal videos Keira sent him, the river otters in particular had stood out (maybe for their vague resemblance to Killer, but the quarterback couldn't be sure).

"First I'm a midget, now I'm an otter," Daxter grumbled, but he was grinning too as he stretched out on the rug where Jak had been minutes before. "Alright, big guy, work yer magic. My muscles are ready."

Well. That had been… significantly easier than Jak had imagined it would be. He got to his knees beside his friend, knowing better than to loom over him straight out. That could come naturally in due time, if Daxter remained chill with the process. _Okay, Jak. Here goes nothing. Now, just don't screw this up._

- / - / - / - / -

Daxter crossed his arms on the rug and laid his chin on them, nervousness and excitement vying for position in his chest.

When he had deiced to park himself on Jak and test out his nonexistent masseuse's skills, it had been a spur of the moment decision—the perfect way to loosen Jak up, help the quarterback relax, and maybe have a bit of an excuse to get his hands on some of those muscles he had been maybe-kinda-sorta-totally admiring last week. All the birds with one stone. What he hadn't counted on was Jak offering to reciprocate.

His breath hitched as Jak's hands, so big that just one of them spanned a good part of his back, settled on his shoulders. Even through the fabric of his shirt Jak's palms felt hot against his skin. _Chill, Daxxie. Just be cool. Be cool, be cool, be cool. Only coolness happenin' here. So chill we're frosting over, snow is accumulating, ice ice baby!_

Mental babble notwithstanding, agreeing to this had probably been one of those not so good ideas. But how could he refuse? There would be no better time to be this close to the object of his crushly affections, not even during tickle tackles, which Jak was still too banged up to be up for anyway. And he couldn't count on another occasion arising that would let him make himself at home in Jak's bunk, either. He had to grab the chance while it was offered.

Goosebumps cascaded down Daxter's arms as Jak's hands moved across his back. His hair stood on end at the foreign sensations those hands stirred up as they roamed from neck to shoulders to spine, obviously with a clear idea of which muscles were where. Damn athletic trainee knowledge. Oh, but it all felt good. The redhead mumbled nonsense into his crossed arms as Jak skimmed across his ribs on a path to his lower back, raising involuntary shivers as he went.

… this wasn't weird, was it, to be swapping massages with your best friend? It seemed like an awful lot of touching to engage in so casually. But then again, Jak was a football player. An athlete. He probably got massages all the time, strictly for the wellbeing of a body that had to be kept in top condition. And Jak was polite and thoughtful, so offering a massage in return would just be second nature. So it probably wasn't weird to him at all.

Dax could dream, though. He could most assuredly dream that Jak was doing this because he wanted to, caressing his smaller friend like he did with that silly weasel he loved so much. A gesture of affection rather than one of courtesy.

The thought brought a dumb smile to his face, one that he allowed to stay where it was on the grounds that Jak couldn't see it. The warmth in his cheeks and ears probably meant accompanying redness, though, which he just hoped Jak couldn't see. _But hey, who can blame me? I'm gettin' a free back rub from the freakin' __**quarterback!**__ Eat yer heart out, cheerleaders._

After a minute or two Daxter relaxed. True to his word, Jak wasn't rough in the least. He moved steadily, methodically, reducing Daxter bit by bit to a puddle of warm, redheaded goo. If he had thought the simple shoulder rub Jak had given him months ago had been nice, then this was Nirvana. He sighed and twitched happily. This could so go on for the rest of forever and he would have no objections.

Lucky for him, Jak didn't seem like he was going to cease fire until he was told to. He had slowly moved from his starting position kneeling on the rug next to Daxter to straddling the smaller boy's waist as he worked, a mirror of what Daxter had been doing for him. On his knees, the green-blonde was still more than tall enough to avoid putting any weight on Dax at all. The idle thought that he was pinned flitted through his brain—and couldn't have been any less concerning.

_Mmm, that's sexy,_ Daxter thought blissfully. His back arched without conscious permission as Jak's thumbs stroked into the muscles above his hips, just so. _Nnnnh, God, that feels so good! Did it feel this good ta Jak when I did it for him?_ He wanted to think so, but realistically, probably not. He had no experience whatsoever with this massage thing, giving or getting, while the quarterback had obviously been through his share of both. Besides, if it had felt even half this good to Jak then Jak would've had a boner, too—

Daxter froze against the rug, eyes slowly widening in his terror. Apparently "too much of a good thing" could actually happen. He'd been so consumed with basking in the building sensations that he hadn't thought to ask Jak to stop touching him before said sensations built into a major problem.

A problem Jak was definitely going to notice.

_Oh, fuck. Oh FUCK._ Mentally he began to flail, brain grasping desperately for a good reason—any reason—to stay face down on the rug for the rest of the night. Claiming sudden onset narcolepsy was beginning to seem like a viable option when Jak's hands on his back slowed and then stilled.

"Doing okay, Dax?"

"Y-yeah, fine!" His voice was little more than a high pitched squeak that he immediately hated his vocal cords for producing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just got really tense again."

Oh, well, he had no idea whatsoever why _that_ had happened. _Sorry, Jak, you were just touching me in a completely nonsexual way and I seem to have developed a not-so-slight case of hard-on. My bad._ Yeah, like that was going to fly over well.

Daxter bit back a whimper and forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn't let this continue. It would only get worse if Jak kept touching him. There was no getting out of this one unscathed, so he might as well take it like a man. Take it like a man until the very second he could make it into his bunk to hide under his blanket in utter mortification for the rest of eternity. "Jak, I think… y'need ta let me up, pal."

Jak moved back immediately, something Dax would be eternally grateful for. The green-blonde sat back on the rug just out of arms' reach, obviously concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin' that's yer fault," Daxter gritted. "Sorry, Jak. Fuck, m'sorry." He shoved his way up onto his hands and knees, and from there into an awkward hunched position with his hands _between_ his knees, hopefully blocking the view. Of all the nights to be wearing the thinnest, rattiest pair of shorts! Maybe if he just sat there for a moment at the opposite end of the rug from his friend and concentrated on the burning of his face the problem would go away. Or at least become less of an eyesore.

"What are you sorry—?" Jak blinked. "…oh."

The redhead had never before wished so earnestly to swiftly, mercifully, drop dead. The backs of his eyelids provided a welcome alternative view to the weirded out, grossed out, _angry_ look that had to be on Jak's face at that moment. _Why do I hafta fuck __everything__ up?_

"Oh. Uh, that's not your fault."

That hadn't been what he was expecting to hear. Not at all. One blue eye cracked slowly open. Daxter chanced a quick glance up. "Huh?"

Jak certainly didn't _look_ angry, even if he was a little red in the face himself. And he didn't _look_ grossed out, even if he might have been looking everywhere but at Daxter. "S'not your fault. That's… pretty normal, actually. When you're getting massages. All the touching, you know."

_Oh, ya think?_ It was on the tip of his tongue, but Daxter bit it back. Sure. Let Jak think he would have popped a boner if it had anybody else rubbing his back. Let Jak think he would have let anybody else touch him like that, period. The 'involuntary response to physical stimulation' boner was vastly preferable to the 'hey, I've got a totally homo crush on you!' boner.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of in the same boat."

It took several seconds for Daxter to process what Jak had said. He blinked, uncurling slightly from his ball as he checked for confirmation. And there it was, the fake jock's jockly sweatpants be damned. _Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. He's got a boner too._

The amazement must have shown on his face, because Jak snorted amusedly even as two sets of red faces got redder—Jak's taking on a healthy, ruddy stain across his perfect cheekbones while Daxter's just went red red red like a bushel of ripe cherries. "What? I just told you, it's a normal reaction. And you can give a pretty good massage."

"Y-yeah?" This time he didn't even blame his voice for being so high only the dogs in the neighborhoods surrounding campus could probably hear it. Jak. Had a boner. Because of him. Natural reaction or not, the bulge in the quarterback's emblazoned Haven U sweatpants _was because of him. _The thought decidedly did not make his own boner want to go away any sooner.

"Yeah."

The redhead gulped, feeling almost lightheaded. "S-so, what do we do? This is gonna suck so bad, sittin' here like this fer the rest'a the night—"

Jak stared at him like he was mental. "Uh, yeah, that would suck. So let's not do that."

"Well, there aren't exactly a lot of options," Daxter huffed, flicking his hot ears irritably. "Because there is nooo freakin' way I'm walkin' down the hall ta the showers lookin' like this! Knowin' my luck I'd run into everybody in the whole damn hall!"

The green-blonde had the nerve to laugh. Actually laugh. "Okay, so, here's an idea: stay in here. It's your room too, you know."

This time it was Daxter's turn to stare. Could Jak actually be suggesting…? "I'm not sure I follow, fake jock. Could ya be more specific on what yer implying?"

"Well, uh… I guess I'm implying what normally happens when two people have to share a room. I get in my bunk, you get in your bunk, nature takes its course, and everybody's happy."

"Are you nuts?!" Daxter almost yelled before forcing his voice down to a more tolerable level. It was late; he certainly didn't want anyone else privy to this astronomically awkward situation. "You can't do that with somebody else right there!"

Jak's head cocked curiously. "Why not? We're best friends. It's not that big a deal. We both know what's going on."

"Yeah, that's the problem!" Boy, there was just no way to accurately communicate exactly how freaked out this concept was trying to make him feel. He raked shaking hands through his hair. "Jak, look, ya don't get it. Where I come from ya can't let anybody know when yer jerkin' it, not ever! When yer in the foster system, if ya get caught masturbating they label ya 'sexually aggressive'—" he hated how desperate he sounded even as he did his most sarcastic air quotation marks, "—an' do you have any idea what that looks like on somebody's record, Jak?! It doesn't look good, I promise!"

All traces of teasing and amusement drained off the quarterback's face in record time. "…Dax. You're not in the system anymore."

The redhead rubbed absently at his upper arm. It sounded so easy in practice, telling himself that those days were behind him, but most of a lifetime didn't just fall away overnight. Or even over a few months. "Yeah, I know, but self-preservation instincts die hard, know what I'm sayin'?"

"I don't believe this." Jak looked like he had just been told that the sport of football had been outlawed. "Has this been bothering you the whole time? Since we moved in here?"

Dax gave a self-conscious half shrug. "Well, not really. I mean, since we're stuck on this topic like used gum on the bottom of yer shoe—it's actually been really great movin' on campus. There's locks on the door an' everything! An' it's not like…" Dear God, they were really having this discussion, weren't they? "It's not like I _never_ do it. It's just… I make not gettin' busted a priority when I do."

"No one's going to 'bust you!' This is _our room_." Jak drug a hand over his face. "Okay, look. Pay attention. I am going to show you the proper response when someone walks in on you like that. First, you flip them off." He promptly demonstrated. "Second, if they don't slam the door and run right off the bat, you tell them to take a picture, it'll last longer. Third, you tell them to get the hell out, because walking in without knocking and getting permission is damned rude. Got it?"

Now why did it sound like Jak had all kinds of experience exercising this proper response. Daxter bit his lip against a laugh, some of the tension seeping away. "Yeah, I just have a question; is there gonna be a quiz over this later, teacher?"

"Dax, I'm serious! You should not have to be afraid to jerk off in your own damn room! You're eighteen, you're in college, you're out on your own living your life. You do whatever the hell you want. You're not going to get in trouble for anything like that around here."

Once again, the redhead was abruptly reminded of just how appealing Jak was when he got riled up over something. That the something he was riled up over happened to be Daxter's welfare made his stomach twist warmly. "I… I guess not."

"I know not," Jak said firmly.

Dax took a deep breath and swallowed. "S-so. Now that we got all that established. What are we gonna do?"

Jak seemed to cool down immediately. His posture relaxed a bit as he uncrossed his arms and let the angry look melt off his face. "It's your call. Really, it's no big deal. We can do whatever you want. We can both get in our bunks and pretend this conversation never happened, you can go to the showers if you want, _I_ can go to the showers if you want and you can stay here—"

"Forget that, I'm not kickin' you out. Like you said, it's _our_ room." Daxter swallowed hard. Mortifying as the last five minutes had been, discussing masturbation of all things with Jak had done very little to convince his dick to lose the idea. Something had to be done, that much was clear, be it a cold shower or some other option. And that other option that his brain kept suggesting was as terrifying as it was arousing. "Um. I, I don't guess, uh…" Okay, mouth. Okay, brain. Collaborate for two seconds before forming these words.

"What's that?" Jak asked, leaning forward slightly to hear better.

"I said, I don't guess…" Dax couldn't force his voice above a whisper. "It wouldn't be that big a deal if we both… y'know. Right? I mean, it's not that weird, is it? Fer guys ta… around each other?"

Jak sat back and blinked.

Oh God, now he had weirded the other guy out. Backpedal, backpedal! "Sorry, sorry, it was a stupid question, forget I said anything!"

"No, hey, wait a second. I don't think it's weird at all." The green-blonde looked contemplative. "I've never done it myself, but I've heard about it more than once. I think it's more common than anybody realizes. Phoenix and his friends even had a code name for it back in high school. They called it 'getting off at Randy's.' He told me about it. Actually he was half lit when he told me," Jak amended, "but I think he was telling the truth."

"R-really?" Daxter was nothing short of awed. If _jocks_ did it so casually, then… But he couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted to say. What if Jak still said no?

"Wanna try it?"

Damn it all, how did the quarterback manage to read his mind so often?! It would have been creepy if it hadn't been so convenient in situations like this. The redhead summoned his courage, consciously forced himself to stop gnawing on his lower lip, and nodded. "…if, an' _only_ if it's cool with you... then yeah."

"Sure. Why not? Everybody says college is when you should try new things." Jak's grin would have been enough to make him weak in the knees if he hadn't already been sitting. "Even Torn said so. And if Torn says something it must be true, right?"

Dax chuckled weakly. "Apparently somebody thinks he knows what he's talkin' about, or he wouldn't be in charge." Slowly, unsteadily, he got to his feet. He didn't have the guts to look Jak in the face while he did. Instinct propelled him to the door, where he checked the lock.

"What are you doing?" Jak asked, likewise finding his feet to tuck Killer back into his ferret condo for the night. "The door locks automatically."

"Better safe than sorry."

"Want me to shove the desk in front of it?" Jak teased, but there was undertone of seriousness to the question.

Daxter swallowed hard. Oh God. The door was locked. Jak was in on it. They were seriously going to do this. "N-nah. Nah, it's all good." He glanced around the room. Just one more thing before he could even begin to imagine getting started. "Can we, maybe, turn the lights off, though?"

"Sure, no problem." Jak nodded understandingly, then paused, ears flicking up. "Just let me grab something first."

"What is it?" Daxter asked, trying to peek around the quarterback as he dug into one of the drawers of his desk. What could he possibly need? They were going to jerk off, not build a poster board together.

The green-blonde pulled something from the drawer that he quickly hid behind his back with a grin. "It's a surprise. You'll see."

That grin was the same rotten look Jak wore when they were about to do something to make Torn's miserable life of suffering a little more miserable, and all of a sudden Daxter felt a lot more at ease. This wasn't a big deal. This was a bratty, willful breaking of a stupid rule, and what they were about to do suddenly seemed a lot less like a capital offense and a lot more like two best friends giggling over a pilfered junk food stash in a blanket fort in the middle of the night. Exactly the kind of thing Dax had yearned for so badly when he was a kid.

The redhead was still flushed hot, but this time the grin Jak received in return was genuine. "Alrighty, then. Let's do this thing!" And he flipped off the light.

- / - / - / - / -

((Giant Censored Area Not Appropriate for this site))

- / - / - / - / -

At some unspoken signal, they both vacated the bed. Dax clicked the light back on. Pillows were thrown back into their proper places. Jak tugged his comforter back in line. They both dug out bed clothes that lacked obvious wet spots, and though it seemed absolutely ludicrous after what had just happened, Daxter flushed hotly and turned away as they changed. Embarrassment and elation were strange emotions to have cohabiting your brain at the same time, he concluded.

Still. He felt good. Better than good. He felt warm, bright and sparky, body loose and limber in a way he wasn't familiar with, but liked anyway.

"I think I'm going to hit it," Jak said, dropping his dirty clothes unconcernedly into his mesh laundry hamper. "Got class in the morning."

Dax nodded, still somehow unable to look his friend in the face. "Uh, I guess I should too. We're supposed ta have a quiz tomorrow. I should probably roll out'a bed at a decent time an' review a little. Or somethin'."

"Good plan," Jak chuckled.

Climbing the bunk ladder seemed a daunting task with his knees one step from rebellion, but Daxter decided to take his chances. He was lifting the first foot, eyes on his goal at the top of the ladder, when something that wasn't a wooden ladder peg connect with his sole. It was Jak's clasped hands.

"Alley-oop!"

Then Daxter was squawking in surprise as he was launched up and into his bunk like he weighed nothing at all, landing on his stomach on his own mattress with a groan of complaint from the bed frame. Down below, Jak laughed.

"You jerk! Ya can't just go tossin' people around like a giant gorilla, you'll mess yer shoulder up again! An' who even says 'alley-oop' nowadays anyway, honestly?!" But he had to hide a huge, red-faced grin in his pillow as he said it.

"Goodnight, Daxter," Jak said sweetly. With a click, the desk lamp went off once more. "Don't forget to ask Taryn for next Wednesday off. You don't want to miss that party."

"Chill, fake jock, I won't forget." He doubted he'd forget a single detail from the night. Not how good that massage had felt; not how cool Jak looked when he was telling the system to go fuck itself; not how good it had felt to be tucked up beside him. And definitely not how electrifying a hot mouth had been on his ear tip, however accidental, shoving him over the edge into sudden bliss. He sighed happily and closed his eyes, hips nudging into the mattress.

… _fuuuuck. _

"Um. Hey, Jak?"

"Yeah?"

Daxter covered his face with his hands and bit the bullet. "Would you be mad if I jerked off again?"

There was silence from down below. Then the box of tissues landed next to his head. "I guess great minds really do think alike. Knock yourself out."

"…yer the best, Jak." And with that final act of coolness, it became official. Daxter could deny it no longer. He had it bad for the quarterback. His roommate. His best friend. The Dude with Whom He Shared His Life and Personal Space.

But, at the very least, he also had tissues. So things couldn't be all bad.

/ - / - / - / - /

To be continued.


	17. Chapter 17

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

It was Friday night, and Daxter was going against his academic religion. He stared down at his math book unseeingly, the numbers blurring as he tried to focus. It was awfully hard to concentrate on something that was only being done because it was a convenient time waster.

He hadn't seen Jak all day.

It was past midnight and the quarterback was still out, plowing through a group project that was due before the onset of the looming break. Jak's group had voted to press on that night until their presentation was complete rather than let it carry over into the next week to interfere with their other homework. And so Daxter had been left alone, struggling to find something to keep himself busy.

It had not been a fruitful venture. Three and a half math problems done in thirty minutes was hardly worth the effort. At that rate he might as well go back to what he had been doing before—staring at the ceiling over his bunk and thinking about the person who was supposed to be there and wasn't.

In the days since their impromptu massage night had escalated into something a lot more, it seemed like Daxter's brain had been going straight to Jak the moment it had nothing else to occupy itself with.

Like it was doing right that very moment.

Finally admitting defeat, he groaned and slammed his book shut. The noise startled Killer, who let go of the new cat toy he was destroying to shriek his annoyance at the interruption.

"I know, right? If I've been thinkin' about it fer three days solid an' still haven't come up with an answer, I'm not gonna come up with one now. So I should just chill out, already!" Cramming his book onto the cluttered shelf at the back of his desk felt good. Dax sighed, slouching in his desk chair.

Killer slunk by, dragging his soundly defeated toy, just out of reach of the redhead's trailing fingertips. Bits of stuffing fanned out in his wake.

Daxter glanced down at him moodily. "Hey. Weasel. He's _your _owner. Is he hittin' on me or what?"

Over the past few days, every small interaction with Jak had seemed… different, somehow. The quarterback's smile had seemed warmer. The casual fist bumps, elbow knocks, hands on shoulders and ruffles of hair had seemed to come more frequently and last longer. Jak's eyes seemed to linger on him more than usual. And through it all, Daxter had been driving himself crazy with one question: was Jak really showing some kind of interest in him beyond simple friendship, or was it all in his head?

The simple fact was, no one had ever hit on Daxter before. He didn't have the first clue what signs to look for. Oh, sure, if Jak had shot him a Jinx-like smirk and a lame pick up line he would have gotten the hint, but that hadn't happened. Nothing like that had happened. And his biggest fear, the fear that kept him silent as a stone when cutting to the chase and just asking Jak about it would be so much easier, was that he might be projecting his own attraction onto the quarterback—imagining reciprocation that simply wasn't there, especially after what had happened between them on Tuesday.

_Who am I kiddin'. Of course I'm projecting. Jak wouldn't be hittin' on me. He's straight._ Dax glanced across the room at Jak's bulletin board. Jak and Keira at prom smiled back from their snapshot; a picture perfect couple. _Yeah, he's totally straight. 'Sides. Even if he wasn't, he'd never dig a goofy-lookin' guy like me. Somebody hot like Phoenix, maybe…_

Well, wasn't that line of thought depressing. He forced himself out of the chair.

On Fridays and Saturdays the cafeterias were open later than usual. Zipping down for a little snack seemed like a good idea. And when he was done with that there was always his evening shower to take, even if he had been half hoping that Jak would be back by then so they could go to the showers together like usual—

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud, I'm thinkin' about him again! Gaah!" Grabbing his lanyard and wallet, Dax hit the door with a backward glance at Killer. "Hold the fort down, weasel face. I'll be right back."

Down in the cafeteria, he wandered from station to station, letting his nose and his stomach decide what was on the menu. Tonight it seemed to be a cup of vegetable soup and a packet of cheese cubes, perfect for warding off the mid-November chill. He was heading back upstairs, the Styrofoam cup of soup warm in his hands, when something in the sea of nearly empty dining tables caught his eye.

He would know that head of auburn dreads anywhere. And the ponytailed blonde sitting across from Torn was…

"So, how's that thesis coming?" Jinx was asking as Daxter snuck curiously closer. "Can't imagine writing five hundred pages of political science jibber jabber's much fun."

Torn stabbed moodily at a piece of meatloaf. "More fun than _your_ thesis, I'm sure. With all those letters and numbers smashed in there if probably looks like a toddler went ape shit on your keyboard."

"Hey, those letters and numbers make up beautiful compounds with limitless potential. This thesis will knock the socks off'a the chemistry department review panel, an' that's not even mentioning how wowed they're gonna be by the practical demonstration—"

"Which I will take care to be far, far away from campus on the day of."

Jinx snorted and launched an onion ring, which landed perfectly around the handle of Torn's fork. "No faith in me at all, huh? You need ta loosen up, my man. When's the last time you got laid? Wait, wait, don't tell me," he interrupted when it looked like the other might snap something, "I know the answer to that; Sophomore year, right?"

Torn glared daggers. Jinx laughed them off with the ease of long familiarity.

Daxter stepped up to the table with a grin. This was too good to walk away from. "Hey, guys. I didn't know you two knew each other."

Jinx's ears slanted in surprise, then perked in recognition as he looked up at the newcomer. "Well hey, Red! Long time no see! What's shakin'?"

"I just came down fer a bite ta eat." Dax slid into the chair Jinx pulled out for him, more than willing to join the hangout now that he had an official invite from at least one of them. He popped the lid off his soup and turned to Torn. "Sooo, how's my favorite RA doin' tonight?"

"I've been better," Torn growled through the hands covering his face.

"What?!" Jinx stared at him accusingly. "You mean Jakkie-boy an' Red live on your floor an' you never told me? What gives? The semester's almost over! Think of all the party time we missed! We're gonna have to make up for that after winter break, y'know."

Torn was gently banging his head on the table. "I will call security on you all. So help me God I will."

Daxter hummed contentedly around his spoon. "We love you too, Torn. So. How long have you two been pals?"

"Too long," the RA muttered, finally lifting his head.

"Since high school," Jinx corrected sourly, reaching across the table to push Torn's head back down in retaliation. It barely missed what was left of the meatloaf. "We go way back. Y'know, we actually met in a chemistry class. I should'a known it was meant to be."

"Yeah?" Daxter sank a cube of cheddar jack in his soup, trying to picture what Torn and Jinx must have looked like in high school. That had to have been a riot.

"Oh, yeah. We were lab partners. He was a grouchy asshole back then, too." Jinx grinned smarmily at Torn, who flipped him off almost boredly. "But then he saved my bacon from gettin' expelled, so I knew he was a good guy at heart. We been friends ever since!"

"Something I will regret to my dying day," Torn grumbled. Both Daxter and Jinx ignored him.

"Whoa, wait, I gotta hear this story. What happened?" Daxter asked.

"Eh, you know. Even back then my experiments didn't always work out the way they were supposed to. Which is half the fun of experiments, right? Anyway, I did a little too much damage to the chem lab for the school's liking. They told me if I messed up one more time I was gone."

"And of course, that was when some of our idiot classmates decided it would be funny to switch his beakers around," Torn sighed, apparently resigned to telling the story. "It blew up three lab stations. The fire alarms went off and the sprinklers activated. We were both digging glass out of our arms and it took months for his stupid ponytail to grow back."

"Your dreads are stupid," Jinx countered without malice. "They would'a thrown me out, too, except for my lab partner vouched for me. He had such a reputation as a tight-ass, everybody knew he'd never lie for a hooligan like me. So he must have been telling the truth."

"Wow. Color me impressed, Tattooed Wonder." Daxter looked him over appraisingly. "Though, if you were that straight laced in high school, you must'a went totally nuts your Freshman year here. All that ink on somebody with a tight-ass reputation? Scandalous!"

"It's called getting disillusioned with the system, you little shit. It happens."

"And we're so very glad it did. Even if your dreads are stupid." Jinx had the audacity to reach out and tug one, which led to revenge at fork point. "Oww! Okay, okay, jeez."

Daxter felt it wise to change the subject. "So, uh, Jinx. How's prep for the party goin'? Jak said ya had big plans."

"Oh, definitely." His smirk bordered on frightening. "The drink special I'm workin' on has five distinct aftertastes! Turkey, stuffing, cranberry, yam, and vodka."

"You are screwed up in some fundamental way that I still can't place," Torn mused, casually stealing the last onion ring.

"Can it, Ropes. It's gonna be epic." The blonde looked back to Daxter. "Oh, hey, on the subject of the party—it's been moved to Tuesday night. A lot more people than we figured are gonna be buggin' out for Thanksgiving break on Wednesday morning. So same time, same place, but Tuesday night. Tell Jak to tell his football buddies, huh? I can't trust Mog will remember to spread the word."

"Can do! I'll be the best little carrier pigeon you ever saw." Dax scraped the bottom of his cup happily. That was one day less he would have to wait. Plus, he already had Tuesday night off work. Score!

"Just keep in mind what happens to underage idiots that I catch stumbling in drunk in the middle of the night," Torn said, stacking his and Jinx's dirty dishes on a nearby tray. "Your buddy Phoenix is on thin ice as it is. Hard as it may be for him to believe, I know what the hell beer smells like."

"You wound me with yer lack of trust." Daxter popped the last cheese cube in his mouth and piled his trash on the tray with theirs. "Duly noted, though."

"Don't worry so much, Torn. Red's cool." Jinx punched Daxter on the shoulder and grinned. "Well, it's about time for me to ship out. Catch you later, boys."

The redhead watched, mystified, as the two older students performed some sort of complex handshake, the kind that stupid high school kids make up to cement their eternal friendship. Against all odds, Torn even seemed to be smiling a little when they broke apart. _That is truly a miracle. I had no idea the guy was actually capable of friendship! Wonders never cease._

Only then did he realize that he had been left alone with their tray. "Hey! Hey, I'm not takin' this up! Most of that ain't mine!"

Torn waved over his shoulder as Jinx laughed loudly. "Sorry, Red. Freshman's privilege!"

Daxter grumbled all the way to the trashcans.

- / - / - / - / -

After his snack and unexpected encounter of the upperclassmen kind, Dax decided to hit the showers. There was still no sign of Jak. He just hoped the quarterback would have something to show for all that effort when he returned.

As he had hoped, the showers where deserted when he got there. Even the radio was quiet, the background music turned down to a barely there hum. Good. Just the way he liked it. Not that he was still too nervous to shower with others around now that he had figured out ways to stay properly covered until he was behind better cover; he just vastly preferred to go with Jak. They had some of their best conversations from neighboring shower stalls.

With a sigh, the redhead padded in and chose the shower in the back corner. He dropped his basket of soap and shampoo inside the curtain and turned on the hot water. _Huh. Gonna need ta pick up more shampoo soon,_ he thought idly as he waited for the water to warm. Oh well. At least he didn't use as much shampoo as Jak went through with that long hair of his. The green-blonde also had to use legit conditioner, whereas Daxter could get away with the cheaper bottles of two-in-one.

… Jak did have nice hair, though. It was always clean, healthy and shining. Sometimes it almost seemed to glow under the light of his desk lamp. And the way it fell forward when it wasn't tucked behind his ears, draping gently down, framing his face so perfectly—

The showerhead sputtered, blasting the blocks of the back wall with a spray of hot water, and Daxter started. He had been smiling at his shampoo bottle like an idiot.

_Stop. Thinking. About. Jak,_ he ordered himself, stepping in just short of the steaming spray and wrenching the curtain shut behind him. His robe was shucked and swung out from behind the curtain, expertly landing on the wall hook. _Okay, Daxxie. Just relax._ He stepped under the spray, shivering at the rush of warmth. _Just focus on somethin' else. There's tons of stuff you can think about. No big deal, right?_

Except that apparently it was.

When he tried to think about the homework he still had left to do, all he could think about was Jak, off working on his project like the good student he was.

When he tried to think about work, all he could think about were the times Jak had snuck in near the end of his shift to have a drink and a breadstick and walk home with him afterward, now that football was over and there was more free time.

Even when he tried to think about the upcoming party and how fun it would be, all he could think about was the last party they had attended. And what had happened after they had run from it. And how he wished he could remember more clearly what it had felt like to kiss Jak there in the freezing dew under a shrub.

_That'll probably be the only chance I ever get, _he thought morosely, finally giving up on thinking about things that weren't his roommate. _Hell of a way ta kiss somebody fer the first time, an' I was so drunk I can't even remember all the details. So not even cool._

Daxter sighed, turning his face up into the spray as he lathered his hair. He knew for a fact that jocks, particularly football players, got kissed at parties all the time. Kissed and then some. Maybe, if he wasn't such a giggly, stupid drunk, he could have impressed Jak with some smooth moves instead of smooching him under the damn bush like one second grader kisses another under the playground slide at recess.

… if Jak wasn't totally straight, that is.

While he rinsed his hair, Dax allowed himself a little daydream. One in which he was something resembling cool and the alcohol gave him the courage to flirt with Haven U's star quarterback instead of a one-way ticket to gooberville.

In a perfect world, he would be just as awesome at parties as Jak was. They would be the most popular duo in the place, the envy of all they surveyed. And after a night of fun, flirting, and Jello shots they would wind up together in a dark hallway, far removed from prying eyes and intruding cheerleaders out for a piece of football hunk. Dax would whisper something clever and alluring, then confidently reach up and pull Jak down for a kiss, a proper one, fingers tangling in that emerald-golden hair. Jak's strong arms would wrap around him, eager but not rough. They would be hot against each other, kissing and touching, maybe staggering up a shadowed staircase to an out of the way bedroom while the party went on obliviously below…

Dax rubbed the soap off his face in frustration. _Great. Good goin'. Go right ahead, get hard over fantasies of yer best friend. Why the hell not. _He had nothing else to do that night. Might as well jerk off to Jak. It wasn't going to make him any more ashamed of himself than he already was.

He pulled the curtain aside and looked cautiously out. The showers were still empty. He could do this if he really wanted to. And maybe if he did, he would finally be able to stop thinking about how Jak's hand had looked that night wrapped around his truly impressive erection.

The redhead ducked back inside, the flush on his face and ears not entirely due to the heat of the water. He wasn't even going to try to think about someone else while he did this. What would be the point? He could fool everybody but himself, and at that particular moment he would have been even happier to be naked in Jak's bed than he would have been to find a naked cheerleader in his own. Not that the members of the cheer squad weren't still entirely boner-inducing, but Jak was… Jak was hot, and so much more besides.

_Oh well, _Daxter thought as his hand drifted down. _I'm already a short, scrawny, freckled ginger with big teeth an' no talent. Might as well be bisexual while I'm at it. _The first touch was good, as it always was, and he leaned back against the warm, slick bricks with a sigh. _Do ya hafta be hot fer more than one guy ta be bi, though? _It was something to consider. Later. Right now there were more pressing matters at hand. Pressing into his hand.

For once he tried to go slower, thoughts flitting back to Jak's low, quiet voice coaxing him to do that very thing. His free hand drifted up to trace across his chest, something that yes, he did enjoy now that he had a minute to focus on it. What he wouldn't give for Jak to do that to him again, on purpose this time, rough fingertips rolling a sensitive nipple to immediate hardness.

"Jak," he purred under his breath. Oooh. Even that felt good, just letting himself whisper the quarterback's name. Daxter relaxed even further, basking in the trickles of warm water over his prickling skin, more content than he had been in days and oblivious to anything going on outside the shower curtain.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak's mood when he finally got back to the dorm was decidedly sub-par.

He had been hopeful, when his sociology professor had announced the group project, that collaborative efforts in college would be somewhat better experiences than those he had been part of in high school. His hopes had been for naught. Six hours in the library on a Friday night had finally produced what he could probably manhandle into the form of a decent paper, but only after he had been forced to put the fear of quarterback into the hearts of his classmates.

When he wasn't on the field, Jak considered himself a pretty laid back kind of guy. But after an hour of the meeting going nowhere—the art student staying buried in her sketch pad, the guy with the hat never looking up from his phone, and the really quiet kid who actually looked like he might know what he was doing refusing to speak up—Jak was done being laid back. The final straw came when the last member of their group walked in a full twenty minutes after the time she had promised to arrive, sat down, and began painting her nails without a word about how her research was going.

Remembering the stunned looks on all their faces when he had suddenly slammed his book closed, stood up, and began barking research orders at them almost made Jak smile as he let himself into his room. It was like they had never seen a football player give a damn in class before.

Finally, hours later, everyone had something marginally satisfactory to contribute. They had all emailed Jak their various findings and sources to add to his own. Sure each page had been written by a different person, but he was confident he could make it cobble together cohesively. It wouldn't be a fun job, but at least if he did it himself he could be sure that their paper on the history of college attendance by various socio-economic groups, races, and genders over the past century wouldn't make it to their professor covered in doodles, nail polish, or not at all.

Killer welcomed him cheerfully as he dropped his backpack and shed his coat, frisking around his feet with a flurry of squeaks and dooks. Jak grinned. "Hey there, buddy. What's up? Where's uncle Dax?"

If Killer was running loose and their lights were on, Daxter had to be nearby. They only let the ferret run if they knew they were going to be back soon. On a hunch, Jak opened his roommate's wardrobe. The robe and toiletry basket were gone. Dax had to be in the showers.

Come to think of it, that sounded pretty amazing to Jak. How great would a hot shower feel, washing away all the stress of the day? If he went now, he might be able to catch Daxter before the redhead finished up. Jak quickly grabbed his towel, his keys, and his own basket and headed for the bathroom.

The moment he hit the door, Jak felt better. It was warm and quiet inside, the air getting progressively more humid and laden with the smells of soap the further through the bathroom he went. When he stepped into the shower room he saw Daxter's robe hanging on its customary hook. Good. They could talk and laugh it up for a while, and Jak could cram his daily dose of Daxter Sass into the end of a stressful evening.

The quarterback had almost reached the stall beside the one Daxter was occupying, mouth open to announce his presence, when the greeting died in his throat. Over the thrum of water he heard a quiet groan. He stopped, ears pricking at the soft sound, and grinned. Sounded like someone was really enjoying their shower. Those kinds of groans echoed thick and fast through the locker room after games or hard practices as everyone exalted in the simple joy that was hot water. He knew exactly how Dax felt. He took another breath to let his friend know that he was there when the sound came again, just marginally louder this time, followed a moment later by—

"Jak—!" It was quiet, barely audible over the trickle and thrum of the shower, but clear.

Jak instinctively froze, his hand clenched tightly around his towel in surprise. His ears went straight up, straining at attention to catch any hint of another sound. And it came again several seconds later, right on the heels of a bitten off whine, the kind that had been seared into Jak's memory just a few nights ago with Dax pressed against his side in the dark.

He stood, shell-shocked. There was no mistaking a tone like that. If Daxter had said his name any louder Jak would have assumed that somehow his friend had known he was standing out there and was acknowledging him, but… Slowly, a huge grin forced itself onto Jak's reddened face. He couldn't help it. As far as he was concerned, this was like hitting the jackpot in Vegas. Just with a moaning redhead leaning up against the winning slot machine.

_He does like me. I'm not imagining it. _He had been so unsure of himself, afraid he was mistaking Daxter's normal behavior for tentative signs of mutual interest and just seeing what he wanted to see, but now he had concrete proof. Daxter wasn't going to freak out on him if he came on stronger, or just outright proposed trying stuff out together. Limitless possibilities had suddenly unfolded themselves before him like a red carpet.

There was a sharp gasp from behind the curtain, a quiet squeak of "nnh, Jak!" and that was it. There was only so much Jak could take.

With a smirk, the quarterback dropped his towel and basket on the bench near the shower. "Yeah, it's me. How'd you know?"

There was a yelp from inside the shower stall. The curtain exploded outward at chest level, as if an arm had thrashed into it in a panic, then settled back into place. A moment later Daxter's head and one freckled shoulder came into view. He couldn't have looked more terrified if Jak had ripped the curtain back and jumped at him with a knife.

"Hey, Dax. How's it going?" As if he didn't already know, but Jak immediately felt bad. He had meant to tease, not scare.

"Jak, I—uh—I mean—nothin'?" The redhead's face was a strange combination of flushed and pale as he snatched his robe off its hook and disappeared behind the curtain again. The water cut off a second later. "How long have you been there?" There was a cringe behind the words.

"I just got back a few minutes ago," Jak said, feigning ignorance. "I saw your stuff was gone and decided to come meet you. Guess you're already done, though."

Daxter slunk out from behind the curtain, basket of shower accessories clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Dripping and half swallowed by his robe, he looked very small. "Yeah, I'm pretty done! Think I'll go head back now!"

Jak was torn between the urge to throw an arm around thin shoulders to calm him down and the urge to pull him in for a tonsil swabbing kiss. However, as that would have probably gotten him decked at that particular moment in time, he settled for a simple smile. "Sure you don't want to stay and keep me company?"

Daxter stared. His mouth opened, then closed. "I guess I could hang out fer a minute."

"Cool." Jak reached for the hem of his shirt, not missing how bright blue eyes followed the movement. Maybe there was some hope of sorting this out now, after all. Was there any way he could coax Dax into making the first move? "So, have you been busy?" he asked, unable to keep from smirking playfully at his choice of words. He pulled his shirt off much more slowly than usual, delighted at the obvious attention that was being paid to it.

"Uh… k-kind of…?" Daxter's eyes followed the shirt almost helplessly as it was pulled up and off, Jak's torso coming into view. "How was yer project meeting?"

"Oh, you know. Long and annoying, but our paper's mostly done now. We just have to work out how we want to present it." Jak shook out his hair and combed his fingers through it. Very slowly. God, the shit Phoenix would give him if he ever found out that his quarterback would sink to trying to be _alluring. _Of course that didn't stop him from executing a well placed stretch, outlining his bare chest.

"Well that's, that's pretty good, right?" Daxter's voice was strangely high.

"Very good," Jak purred, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Dax began to back slowly away, staring all the while. He kept backing up until he hit the wall, stumbled, and fell against the painted bricks. "Yeah! Yeah, that's great! I got somethin' I just remembered I gotta go do, so, uh, see ya when yer done!"

"Okay. See you in a few." Jak turned away to hide his silent laughter as Daxter bolted for the safety of their room, no longer frightened but no less flustered. Oh, that had been priceless.

The green-blonde finished stripping leisurely and stepped into the shower his roommate had so hastily vacated. He had plans to make.

He would talk to Dax on the day of the party next week. They had to stop dancing around each other like this and, realistically, Jak was going to have to be the one to bring it up. At the party or right after the party would be the perfect time to do it. The kiss he had gotten on Halloween proved that Daxter got braver when he was drunk, so hopefully the redhead wouldn't blanch white as mashed potatoes and run away when Jak broached the topic.

_I'll be really casual about it,_ Jak decided as he lathered up. _I'll just say something like "Hey Dax, I think it's kind of obvious we're pretty attracted to each other. We should mess around sometime. It'd be fun." Short, sweet, to the point, no pressure. And then he'll have Thanksgiving break to think it over. Then maybe we could—_

The possibility, however remote, that Daxter might make up his mind in time for them to spend the five day weekend making out on Jak's bed was enough to make the quarterback groan happily as he tilted his face up into the spray. Suddenly a party that had been approaching too fast for his liking seemed much too far away.

- / - / - / - / -

Daxter literally ran down the hall, almost crashing into their door. His hands, when he fumbled for his lanyard to unlock it, were shaking. He got inside, slammed the door behind him, and braced his back against it as he panted for air.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he groaned at himself, hands tugging fruitlessly at the wet hair dripping into his face. "Jak must think I'm nuts!"

Really, though, he should be thanking his lucky stars. He had done something as astronomically stupid as _making noise _while he jerked off—even gone so far as to say Jak's _name. _He never should have assumed that the sound of the shower would cover his voice. It was just damn fortunate that Jak had mistaken the meaning behind it when he had overheard his name. Otherwise he'd probably be thinking he was rooming with a pervert instead of just a weirdo.

Quickly Daxter hung up his wet robe and pulled on sweatpants and a hoodie in its place. He had to be acting natural by the time Jak got back. He could still act normal and divert this disaster. If he could just play it cool, maybe ask Jak in more detail about his project meeting, tell him about the party date being moved, everything would be fine.

That was why, when Jak returned, dripping and gorgeous with a towel around his waist, the redhead didn't bat an eye. He was seated at his desk flipping casually through notes for an upcoming English test. Killer lay in his lap, poking his head up every now and again to try for a lick at the popsicle Dax held. It was a good one, swirled cherry and orange, that the cafeteria had put on sale a few days prior to clear out their stock until warmer weather returned.

"All squeaky clean?" Daxter asked, lifting his popsicle out of range of a seeking ferret tongue.

Jak nodded, opening his wardrobe to put his basket back inside. "Feeling about a hundred percent better."

Dax quickly averted his eyes, mindful of the towel drop that was coming. "Group projects not yer thing, huh?"

"Projects in general aren't my thing. Partners who don't care just make it worse." Jak rustled in his clothes. The wardrobe door shut. "I think I'm going to order something from Bamboo Express. Want anything?"

The redhead gave a covert glance over his shoulder, saw a fully clothed quarterback, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Nah, big guy, I'm good. I had a snack a little while ago. You'll never guess who I saw downstairs while I was getting' it."

"Who?"

Dax grinned. "Torn, plus one. Did you know, Jak, that Tattooed Wonder an' yer favorite grad instructor went to high school together? And they're still bros? And they hang out in the cafeteria on Friday night insultin' each other's line of study an' talking about their thesis?"

"Oh my God, are you serious?" Jak groaned. "Great. Now Jinx has a reason to come here and annoy me. There was a reason I never told him where I live."

"What's up with this thing you got against Jinx?" Daxter laughed, licking a drop off the base of his popsicle. "The guy seems alright ta me."

"Then you go take a class with him if you like him so much," Jak grumped. "Seriously, the next time he calls me Blondie-babe, I'm throwing whatever's in the beaker I'm holding at his head." There was a pause. "Hey. Where'd you get that?"

Daxter froze in confusion, lips around the popsicle. He pulled back and licked his lips self-consciously. "Cafeteria. Prob'ly the last ones fer the winter."

"Nice." Jak continued to stare—at the popsicle or at the lips that had been attached to it, it was impossible to tell.

_Great. Judging by how great this night has been so far, I definitely got cherry on my face._ Dax wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and held the popsicle out with the other. "Uh, ya want some?"

Jak looked back at him for half a beat, expression unreadable. Then he crossed the room and, rather than take the popsicle, he wrapped his hand around Daxter's wrist to hold it steady as he leaned in for a long lick that turned into a lingering suck when it reached the tip of the melting treat. Their eyes caught and held for a long moment, during which Dax was fairly sure his face caught on fire. Killer looked up at them, head twisted almost upside down in true ferret fashion, and chattered curiously.

Then Jak pulled back, licked a drop of cherry off the corner of his mouth, and let go of Daxter's wrist. In that order. "Pretty good. Thanks."

"No problem," Daxter muttered faintly.

That was it. No contest. He was going to die if Jak didn't stop being sexy. He did not know how to handle this, this rush of _needing _the person that he lived with twenty-four seven! He was just going to fall down dead and they could bury him on the quad as a warning to all future students of what happens when they developed the terminal hots for their roommates. Here lies Daxter, dead of sexual frustration.

Yeah, he was going to expire… or snap like a faulty fan belt.

Jak moved away, fishing his phone from his backpack and a Chinese menu from his desk drawer. Before he could make the call, though, Daxter interrupted.

"Hey, Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"Jinx wanted me ta tell ya somethin'." The redhead swallowed nervously. "The, uh. The party got moved up next week. Too many people are gonna be gone Wednesday, so it's on Tuesday night now. Is Tuesday gonna be okay? Are we still gonna go?"

Jak's ears flicked to and fro as he wavered. Slowly he nodded. "Yeah, I don't see why not. I have a one-on-one meeting with my professor Tuesday evening, but I don't think it'll take long. I might be a little bit late, but you could just go on to Frat Row and meet up with Phoenix until I get there."

"Okay. Sounds good, pal. Can't wait!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you can't. You and your good buddy Jinx will have a blast." The quarterback rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he turned away to call in his order.

Killer shifted on Daxter's lap and rolled over with a yawn that showed every tiny white tooth. Dax reached down to pet him absently. An idea was slowly beginning to take shape. This party might just be the key to his salvation.

The last time he had gotten drunk, Jak had forgiven him for the dumb kiss under the shrub. No questions asked. Maybe, if it happened again, he would get the same leniency. Maybe, just maybe, Jak wouldn't be too quick to push him away, and he would have a small chance to show the green-blonde that he could be worth his time.

_Jak's about as close as a football player can come ta sainthood, but who in their right mind turns down a hand job? I mean, I know there's no way I'd be able ta kiss worth a damn—if he'd even kiss me, which I doubt—but even I can figure out how ta work a dick. Prob'ly. _He stared hard at the floor as he outlined the beginnings of a plan, his hopes daring to rise. _So, so even if he's straight, maybe we could do somethin' like that once in a while? An' then maybe he wouldn't care too much if I had a crush on him? Or—gaaahh, I don't even know!_

One thing was clear. If he didn't want to be a gibbering wreck by winter break, he had to do _something. _He just really hoped that something wouldn't result in him having to find a new roommate when Jak kicked him and his childish crush out.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	18. Chapter 18

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

"So, wadda ya think? Am I sexy? Do I look stupid? Work with me, here!"

Killer, like the true friend he was, stayed fast asleep, an upside down noodle of fur on Jak's bedspread.

"Why do I even bother talkin' ta you, weasel?" Daxter turned back to the wall mirror with a huff, hands fiddling nervously with the collar of his new shirt. "Pop it? … too douchey. Leave it down? … too 'school picture day.' Damn it, why'd I even buy this stupid thing?!"

Outside the window, day was fading slowly into evening. The pale November sun sank sedately behind the bare trees and buildings of campus, splashing the rug golden for brief minutes and highlighting the shopping bags that had been discarded there.

The party was less than an hour away.

Daxter was utterly terrified.

He had been halfway to class earlier that afternoon when he'd had a sudden flash of insight. This party was not going to be a costume party. He was going to have to look good in front of the cool kids. And his threadbare jeans-hoodie-sneakers wardrobe was not going to cut it.

One panicked sprint to the bus stop, one skipped class, and one trip to the mall later, he found himself minus more than a third of his last paycheck but plus an entire new outfit, complete with new shoes. It was more newness than he had worn in his whole life, and he couldn't help but feel paranoid as he looked himself up and down—a loser in cool clothing.

Luckily he had seen enough well-dressed guys on campus to at least have a notion of what kind of style he was after. Fall fashions were firmly stocked in the shops. All he'd had to do was go in and prowl the racks with the occasional tip from the floor attendants, most of whom had been roughly his own age and more than able to give good advice. In the end he had come out with a pair of skinny jeans that fit like a second skin and kept making him want to walk funny, a button up shirt in red and black plaid, dark gray flats, and a new wrist band. The last had been an impulse buy that had caught his eye at the cash register for the orange and yellow lightning bolts woven into the black cord.

Dax gave one last spin. "Well, I guess that's as good as it's gonna get." He smoothed self-consciously at imaginary wrinkles in his new shirt. Damn, he hoped it would catch Jak's eye. He'd chosen the red over identical shirts in blue, purple, and green not only because of his own fondness for the color, but also because Jak had commented once on how well red suited him, when he had first broken out his favorite red hoodie at the beginning of fall.

"Fake jock damn well better like it," he grumbled to himself, hands twitching up to worry with the collar again. "The things I do fer a little attention around here." The redhead met his own eyes in the mirror and bit his lip gently, ears falling despite his best efforts.

He just hoped he didn't look like an idiot.

There was a soft cluck from the bunk beds. When Daxter looked back, Killer was awake and staring at him with half-lidded eyes.

"What? Don't judge me with yer beady little weasel eyes! It makes me feel guilty fer gettin' drunk an' puttin' the moves on yer dad."

His plan was simple and straightforward.

He would start drinking as soon as he arrived at the party. By the time Jak got there he would already have a good buzz on, and Jak would be given no chance to talk him out of drinking so much. He would then come on to Jak as shamelessly as his liquored up state would allow, letting the green-blonde know in no uncertain terms what he was offering. Hopefully all this would be done in a way that wouldn't garner the notice of half the party. After that, the ball would be on Jak's side of the field. If the quarterback liked what he heard, amazing. And if he didn't, Dax would blame the whole episode on being drunk, beg forgiveness, and never touch the subject with a ten foot pole again.

What could possibly go wrong?

"Okay, I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Daxter picked up Killer, who offered no protest, and tucked the ferret into his cage. "Back later, slinky. Wish me luck."

He couldn't stay there alone in the room with no distractions, second guessing himself and getting more nervous by the minute. What he needed was something to keep his mind occupied. Pizza Haven was close to Frat Row. He could go grab a bite and chit chat with Taryn, maybe show off his new outfit before the moment of truth.

Grabbing his keys, Daxter took a deep, steadying breath and left the room. He could only hope his return would be triumphant.

When he reached the LIT house an hour later, the party was already gearing up to full swing. Uncertain of what to do without Jak by his side, Daxter stalled momentarily, hugging the wall near the entryway as he formulated a battle plan.

Then a large hand appeared from nowhere to land on his shoulder. The redhead jumped and whirled, looking up into the face of his new companion. "Phoenix!"

"Good evening, mate." The running back grinned happily, completely at ease within his element. "Jak warned me you'd be on your way before he would. Nice digs, by the by."

"Yeah?" Daxter shifted uncomfortably. The jeans really were indecently tight. But, all around him others were wearing the same without concern. He could deal. "Thanks. Just thought I'd shake it up a little bit. Throw on somethin' that wasn't a hoodie."

"Banger. Well, shall we get you set up with some refreshments? Jinx will be heartbroken if his drink specials don't get your seal of approval."

Phoenix might not have been the jock he was courting, but at that moment Daxter could have hugged him. "Sounds good ta me, pal!" Then he caught sight of the can in the other guy's hand. It was a vanilla Coke. "Dude. Do my eyes deceive me? Why is that not a beer?"

"Oh, this?" Phoenix glanced ruefully at his drink. "I'm afraid this is my regimen for the night. I made quite the arse of myself with the hangover from the Halloween party and I'm not eager to repeat the experience. I'm just here to mingle, really. Now that the football season is done and we don't have practice or a game every day I'm starting to miss the lads."

"Razer can't keep ya in line?"

"He's not able to be here this time. He has a project due first thing in the morning that he has to finish tonight. Not that I think he minds. Razer isn't much for socializing."

"Can't say that surprises me like at all." Daxter spared a somber moment to respect Phoenix's decision to be a responsible adult. Exactly one somber moment. Then that was enough of that. "Okay, c'mon! Let's go pay Jinx a visit."

Jinx was, as predicted, in the kitchen. The counter tops were a forest of multicolored bottles. The chemist was busy tossing them up to whoever walked in, laughing and joking with everyone. He beamed when he caught sight of Daxter. "Hey, Red! Catch!"

The bottle that landed in his hands was full of blood red liquid. "What's this?"

"That's drink special number one—cranberry soda, cranberry juice, and vodka. I'm goin' easy on ya for yer first round. The orange is yam, yellow's stuffing, and the brown's root beer an' turkey."

Daxter shuddered even as he twisted off the cap. "What's the green, then? Green bean casserole?"

"I thought about green bean casserole. I tried ta pull off green bean casserole. I threw it up. Go figure. So the green's just plain ol' poached pear. Not all that exciting but adds some color—kind'a like neon." Jinx eyed Phoenix's soda. "Sure I can't get ya somethin' a little more festive, fly-boy?"

Phoenix waved him down. "No thanks, mate. Tonight's firmly a dry one. Though I do want at least a taste of that sweet potato vodka when you crack one, Daxter."

"Yer a brave man."

"Hey, Phoenix!" The kitchen door swung in to reveal the Haven Warriors' wide receiver. "Come on, man, we need you at the ping pong tournament!"

"Are you sure?" He held up his can. "I'm sober. I might have an unfair advantage."

"That's fine. You can be on my team."

The running back laughed. "Hard to refute that logic." He turned momentarily back to Daxter. "Alright, I'm off for a bit. Enjoy yourself! If you get bored, come and find me. In the meantime, if I see Jak sneak in I'll point him your direction."

"Thanks. Have fun." The redhead took a long pull of his drink as Phoenix exited stage left. "Gotta say, Jinx, I'm a fan of the cranberry. I mean, it's not a Jello shot, but it's pretty good."

"I knew you'd like it! Don't feel bad, though. Ain't much can beat a good jiggle shot." Jinx began to load a tray with bottles. "Babysit things in here for me while I make the rounds, huh Red?"

Daxter's bottle, empty in record time, hit the countertop with a thump. One down. "Yeah, I guess." It certainly couldn't hurt to stay close to where the booze was. "Why d'you take it out there, though? Everybody knows where it is. They can come get it if they want some."

"Eh, I enjoy it. Out there's where all the fun stuff happens." Jinx hoisted his tray. "Besides, the tips ain't too shabby, either. Especially the later it gets and the drunker people are."

"People actually tip you?" Dax laughed, reaching for a bottle of orange.

"Hey, they know a good set up when they see it. Hold down the fort for me, now. Maybe you'll get a chance ta take 'em round next time."

The redhead grinned. "Teach me your illegal bar keeping ways, sahib." Then he took a swig of orange and promptly gagged. "Holy shit, this stuff is horrible!"

Jinx's laughter floated over the sound of the stereo system as he strode confidently out into the fray.

Resolutely, Daxter set his ears back and forced another drink down his throat. He wasn't drinking for taste this time. He was a (more than slightly desperate) man on a (probably futile and extremely ill-advised) mission. He had no idea when Jak would finally show up, but he had to be good and drunk when it happened. Like it or not, there was no turning back now.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak's walk to Frat Row was freezing cold, but also somehow soothing in the way that only the free evening before a vacation could be. He was tired and a little grouchy, but those feelings were nursed by the promise of Wednesday, and Thursday, and all the way to Sunday full of sleeping in, eating too much turkey, and goofing off with Daxter.

Apparently Jak wasn't the only one eager to blow off some steam. This party, at first glance, looked just as wild as the Halloween bash had been. As the quarterback made his way up the front walk of the large house, the man who had been peeing from the upstairs balcony fell off of it and landed in a bush below. Jak winced, but the guy was already struggling out, pants around his knees, to the hoots and cheers of his companions still leaning over the railing.

Jak sighed and carried on. Sometimes he wondered how people managed to survive four whole years of this.

Inside was no better. A girl was getting sick in the entryway, her hair held by another girl who giggled and hiccupped by turns. The quarterback stepped quickly around them. It seemed like everyone was on a roll tonight.

He started searching the crowd. Jinx was sure to be out there somewhere serving up his concoctions. Phoenix was supposed to be there as well, though Jak had no idea if Razer was with him or not. And somewhere in the melee was Daxter. Jak hoped his roommate had managed to stay out of trouble without a chaperone.

Finally Jak caught sight of a raven-black ponytail. Phoenix was across the large common room, embroiled in a game of darts with some of their teammates.

"Isn't that kind of dangerous?" Jak asked, stepping up behind him.

"What? Oh, Jak!" Phoenix greeted him with a clap on the shoulder. "Glad you could make it. I was starting to wonder if you would. And not to worry, I'm perfectly sober."

Both boys ducked a second later as an enthusiastically thrown dart went wild, pinged off a lamp, and disappeared into the crowd. Luckily no screams were forthcoming.

Jak quirked a brow. "Yeah, but they aren't."

"All part of the fun, mate." Phoenix straightened up and flipped his hair back into order. "Are you looking for Daxter?"

"Yeah, have you seen him?" Jak tried not to sound too eager.

"He was in here just a minute ago. He and Jinx have been trading off taking the drinks 'round." The running back futilely scanned the sea of students. "Check the kitchen," he finally suggested. "He might have gone back for a restock."

"Thanks, Phoenix." Jak turned toward the kitchen, shaking his head. He should have known that sooty excuse for a grad instructor would corrupt his friend one way or another. Hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to pry Dax away from Jinx to have their little chat.

He was so lost in thought that the slam of another body against his own came as a total surprise. The green-blonde spun around, an apology on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself looking into a familiar and equally surprised face. "… Erol."

"Jak." The taller man's expression shifted from surprised neutrality to subdued annoyance. "What a coincidence. I saw your little redheaded friend a while ago and wondered where you were, since I've never managed to see you two apart before. I thought you might have wised up since the last party."

Jak bit back a snarl and a threat. Erol wouldn't have had the chance to do anything to Daxter. There were too many people around. And the cadet didn't seem to be acting overly aggressive that night, for a change. "I thought you might have decided to, I don't know—stop going to these parties if you disapprove of underage drinking so much," he growled instead, rolling his eyes.

Erol shrugged smoothly. "What can I say? One man alone can't bring about good behavior on a campus full of idiots, so I'm letting it go. For now. You have to pick your battles wisely, right Jak?" His smile was anything but friendly.

Blue eyes narrowed. "That's generally pretty good advice, yeah."

On that note, they parted ways with a simple nod. Jak continued on to the kitchen, vaguely glad that the only person he'd truly managed to make an enemy of since coming to Haven U had decided to play it civil that night. Maybe Erol was just too preoccupied with something else to make any trouble. Or maybe he was legitimately trying to keep the peace between them. Whatever the reason, Jak was still unsettled. There was just something about Erol that he couldn't bring himself to trust, even under an apparent olive branch.

As soon as he swung the kitchen door open, though, all thoughts fled his mind. All thoughts except the ones that were focused on the seat of his best friend's pants.

Daxter was leaning against the cabinets, arms folded over the laminate. Jinx was on the other side of the counter, snapping the caps off two bottles for the couple that stood chatting next to him. Apparently Jak had walked in on the middle of a funny story.

"… so then I gave my little nephew some Mentos an' a bottle of Diet Coke. Baby's first chemical reaction is so sweet. I just didn't figure he'd put the cap back on! Apparently now I owe my aunt a new bay window."

Everyone laughed. Everyone but Jak, whose brain was still stuck alongside his eyes on those pants. _Where did he even get skinny jeans? They have to be new. There is no way he's worn those in front of me before. I would have remembered._

Jinx happened to glance up, finally noticing the quarterback's presence. "Jakkie-boy! 'Bout time you showed up. Come on in, grab a drink, take a load off."

Daxter looked back over his shoulder and grinned hugely. "Hi, Jak! Where ya been, pal? I been waitin' fer ya!"

Jak exchanged a distracted greeting with the couple as they walked by—he had a vague notion that the girl might have been in the chemistry lab Jinx instructed—and moved aside to let them through the door as they headed back to the party proper with their drinks. "Uh, hey, Dax. Sorry I'm late."

"S'okay! C'mere, I saved ya a cranberry vodka mixer." The redhead beckoned him closer expectantly.

The closer he got, the more Jak realized that he was going to be in serious trouble very soon if he didn't manage to hoist his brain out of the gutter. Daxter wasn't just wearing new pants. He was wearing a whole new outfit that complimented his slim build perfectly. The style was popular right now, but it was nothing that Jak would ever wear himself, so he'd never given it much attention. But on Daxter… The red in the shirt brought out the fire of his hair even more. The tight, dark-washed jeans clung to his legs and hips. Even the bratty wristband made Jak want to slide his fingers under it, feel the soft skin of the wrist beneath, the warm beat of a pulse against the pads of his fingers.

Jak accepted the proffered bottle and took a long drink. "Thanks. I needed that."

"So how's it goin', Blondie?" Jinx asked. He was consolidating the remaining bottles on the counter top, making room for more tall stacks of plastic Solo cups. "Did you get all yer work done an' projects ready like a good boy?"

"Yeah. I swear on my football scholarship, the most academic thing I'm going to do during this break is get online and look up how much the bookstores are buying back used textbooks for."

Jinx laughed. "That'a boy. Teacher is proud." He began to load a large tray with bottles. "Okay, boys, I'll be back. Jak, I want a full report from you on how much you like my turkey vodka."

"How about not."

"Breakin' my heart, here!" the blonde yelled. He pushed open the door and was gone.

Daxter glanced up at Jak. "The turkey stuff ain't that bad, y'know," he confided sagely. "Especially if yer already drunk."

"Not if it was the last alcohol on Earth." Jak smiled at his friend's scoff. "Been having a good time?"

"Oh, yeah!" Dax began to chatter excitedly. The hint of a slur was becoming evident. "It's been great! Jinx, he let me take turns carryin' the drinks out. People really like ya when ya got the drinks. I even saw th' scary guy—what was his name?"

"You mean Erol?"

"Yeah, him! An' he wasn't even a jerk ta me or nothin'! I should give people booze more often. Oh, an' Phoenix said my clothes're nice."

Jak felt a flicker of annoyance, though for the life of him he couldn't place why. That was weird. "They are nice. They're new, right?"

"Yeah, I just got 'em today!" Daxter preened, obviously enjoying the compliments. His cheeks and ears were pink, though probably more from drinking than self consciousness at that point. "Ya really think they're cool?"

That was a bit of an understatement. The wardrobe change took the "cute" that the redhead's normal hoodie and patched jeans supported and tipped it on its ear. Daxter always complained that people thought he looked young for his age, that he was a high schooler instead of a college student. His new look was definitely much more mature. Not that Dax wasn't still cute, but there was something almost sinful in the cling of the new fabric. This redhead in front of Jak was… _sexy_.

Jak swallowed. "Yeah. I like them a lot."

Daxter moved a little closer, tripping a bit over one of his own shoes. Those looked new, too. "Good. I was hopin' you'd say that." He grinned up at the quarterback from his new post, which arguably qualified as a breach of personal bubbles. "Damn, is it hot in here? Does it feel hot in here ta you?"

"Not really." Jak looked again at the flushed face and ears. Dax had the first two buttons of his new shirt undone. The redness was migrating down his chest. "Uh, Dax. How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough."

"Enough to have another god-awful hangover tomorrow? I thought you said you were never going to drink that much again after Halloween."

He was ignored completely. "C'mon, let's go outside fer a minute. It's cooler out there."

"It's almost freezing out there," Jak corrected, but there was already an insistent hand tugging on his sleeve, pulling him along as Daxter opened the door that led out onto the back patio.

The quarterback followed with a sigh. Dax would get cold in a couple of minutes and they could go back inside. In the meantime, he could get into the spirit of the upcoming holiday and be thankful that, unlike the first, their second visit to that particular patio had nothing to do with outrunning police officers.

Outside, the sun had completely set. Their breaths came out plumes of white in the frosty air, dissipating upwards into the dark sky where a waxing moon was on the rise. Muffled music from the sound system inside filtered out into what was otherwise a quiet night. Jak took a deep breath. Someone somewhere had a fire going; probably one of the neighboring houses had a woodstove or a fireplace. It would have been a great night for a bonfire.

Daxter walked by, pacing the length of the patio. There he stalled, quiet, with his back to the green-blonde.

Jak really hoped his friend hadn't already managed to make himself sick. Not that Jak would really mind leaving the party early if that was the case, but he'd hate to see Dax do that to himself again. The redhead was supposed to be having fun, and he sincerely doubted being drunk to the point of nausea counted in the realm of things that were fun.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Huh?" Daxter half turned to face him, wobbling a bit. That didn't speak volumes on the state of his sobriety. "Oh, sure. I'm fine, big guy. Nooo problems here!" He paced back, stopping just short of where Jak stood. "So, Jak."

"Hm?"

"I've been thinkin'."

"What have you been thinking about?" Jak asked, already anticipating an answer involving alcohol, or parties in general, or what they could do over the break, or even how cold it actually was out there. Anything but the answer that actually came.

Daxter drew himself up to his full height, looked Jak straight in the eye, and firmly declared, "We should fuck."

Jak stopped breathing. He stared at the determined expression on the flushed face before him, struggling to process what he had just heard. "_What?_"

"You… you've been flirtin' with me!" Daxter blurted, pointing at Jak accusingly.

Slowly, Jak's ears drifted back up from their shocked slant. "Yeah. Yeah, I have." He chanced an uncertain smile. "So you did notice. I was starting to wonder."

"…really?" Daxter blinked, arm falling limply to his side. "Uh, I mean—yeah! You totally were flirtin' with me! 'Course I noticed! Yer only like the hottest guy I know." He huffed, red cheeks poofing for a moment. "I been horny fer a goddamn week 'cause of you! So we should fuck."

Okay. So this was definitely not the way Jak had imagined this conversation going. But it was actually happening, and Daxter wasn't freaking out on him, and damned if he was going to complain. Especially not when the object of his attentions had just admitted that Jak made him as hot as he unconsciously made Jak. The quarterback knew that the grin he was wearing had to be cocky as sin, but he couldn't help it.

"Well," Jak said slowly, turning the full force of that grin on his friend, "I think that can be arranged."

The redhead searched his face suspiciously in the warm glow of the kitchen window. "Y'mean it? This ain't some stupid joke?"

Jak shook his head in denial. "No, I mean it. You're my best friend. Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Okay." Daxter appeared mollified. "I didn't guess ya would." He stepped closer, firmly into Jak's personal space, and smiled almost sweetly. "Glad we had this chat, pal. Now let's do this thing."

Jak choked out a startled laugh. "Are you serious? No!"

"Why not?" Dax asked, looking hurt at the outright refusal. "Y'just said ya been hittin' on me!"

"Yes, I did. But now really is not the time. You're too drunk for this."

"Well, duh, 'course I'm drunk." Daxter rolled his eyes with a huge sigh, like it was the most obvious point ever. "Y'think I'd be brave enough ta call ya on bein' a boner magnet if I wasn't drinkin'?"

"You got drunk… on purpose… just to talk to me about this," Jak said slowly, the pieces finally falling together. He wanted to laugh and bang his head against the wall at the same time. "God, Dax!"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Daxter pouted for a fraction of a second, then brightened again. "So, yeah. Wanna mess around?" He took that last step forward, bringing them chest to chest. "I'll give ya a hand job. Been plannin' on it fer a week."

The quarterback nearly swallowed his tongue. Suddenly at least one part of him was totally on board for this idea. But he still couldn't forget where they were. "Dax, come on. That sounds—really great, but we can't right now. Not here. There are too many people—"

"They're not gonna come out here," Dax wheedled. "They're all inside havin' fun." His hands were suddenly on Jak's arms as he pressed closer, the buttons of his new shirt brushing the front of Jak's letter jacket. "Don't you wanna have fun, pal?"

Jak wavered, his resolve beginning to dissolve in the face of a redhead who was, against all odds, being the forward party in all of this. He put tentative hands on Daxter's waist, noting the chill clinging to the fabric of tight jeans even as he noted how deliciously slim those hips were. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until we're somewhere else? It's… it's pretty cold out here…"

"Yeah, sure is. Guess you'll just hafta warm me up." Dax leaned forward, his arms worming inside Jak's jacket as they wrapped around a muscled torso. "C'mon, aren't ya the big, strong quarterback?" He grinned deviously. "Oooh, is the fake jock scared ta get sexy at the party?"

Oh, now it was freaking _on_. Jak tightened his grip on those tiny hips, eliciting a surprised yelp from the redhead as he picked the smaller boy up, turned around, and pressed him quickly against the side of the building.

"Hey!" Dax whined as the cold plastic siding made itself known through the thin fabric of his shirt. But the momentary displeasure didn't stop him from pulling Jak as close as physically possible. One of the hands that had been worming inside Jak's jacket withdrew and fell to the front of his pants instead.

Jak groaned at the experimental but eager touch against what was already becoming an obvious tent. He dropped his head forward, lips finding Daxter's unerringly. Daxter went up on his toes, pressing back enthusiastically, but after a moment he pulled away. Jak tried again, only to have the second kiss rebuked with a quick turn of the head.

"What's the matter?" he whispered.

"Nothin'." Dax stared at the ground. "S'just… I dunno how ta kiss," he muttered petulantly. "Never done it b'fore. Won't be any good."

Jak grinned. "Well, we can fix that." He leaned in, but this time Daxter ducked his head, landing Jak's kiss across the bridge of a freckled nose.

"Nuh-uh! No kissin'!"

For a moment Jak wanted to whine. Making out was one of the best parts! But he restrained himself. He wasn't going to push his friend's boundaries on their very first foray. "Okay. No kissing. We can work on that later."

"… 'kay." Daxter's reticence was almost cute. It was the first bit of embarrassment he had shown yet that evening, overcoming even his blood alcohol content.

Jak chuckled and moved his attention to a flushed ear. Despite its flush, he was sure it had to be chillier than it looked. It was his duty to warm that ear up. Smirking deviously, he peppered kisses along the freckled upper edge before moving lower to nibble on the lobe.

Daxter gasped sharply and arched into Jak, clearly happy with the proceedings this time around.

"Shh," Jak whispered into the ear he was worrying.

It was probably an unnecessary reminder, since Dax was always so quiet anyway and even a few soft noises would be more than masked by the thumping of the bass inside, but they were still playing a risky game. In a house packed to the doors with people, there was no guarantee that no one would find a reason to come out back into the cold—to have a cigarette, to throw up, to take a piss if they were too drunk to find the bathroom. Even though Jak had tucked them close up beside the house, far removed from the light of the kitchen window and the street light off the corner of the patio, they could still get caught. The thought suddenly became much less worrying than it should have been when the hand at his crotch made a move to slip inside his pants.

Jak retaliated by sliding his hands off the hips he still held and firmly palming Daxter's ass through those devious skinny jeans that seemed to have been designed with the sole purpose of driving him crazy.

Daxter whined desperately and squirmed against Jak, his face finding the open collar of the quarterback's letter jacket to press frantic little kisses against the warm skin underneath. Jak shuddered, leaning into the hand that was suddenly determined to get his jeans unbuttoned.

The back door swung open.

Daxter froze like a spooked rabbit. Jak reflexively pressed closer, using his size to partially hide the smaller boy from view as a group of guys walked across the opposite side of the patio, laughing and talking loudly. They cut across the lawn, probably on their way to another house. Just when Jak thought they were in the clear and would go unnoticed in the shadows, the last one out the door happened to glance their way.

There was an immediate bark of laughter. "Oh my God, is that _Mar_ actually hooking up with somebody? Who's the chick who finally managed to pick up the quarterback?"

Jak cringed even as he shifted the arm he had braced on the wall, trying to conceal Daxter's face. Of course somebody would be able to recognize one of the university's star players, even in the bad light.

"Come on, guys," he called irritably, trying to keep his voice steady even in the face of an eruption of whistles and jeers from the rest of the group, who had turned back to see what was afoot. If he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, maybe they would continue to think that nothing was. "A little privacy?"

"Yeah, sure thing. Good luck, man!"

Thankfully, mercifully, miraculously, the other men moved on. Jak was left with a pounding heart and an armful of redhead that was finally starting to shiver with nerves and cold.

He glanced down into wide eyes. "Well, that was close."

Daxter gulped nervously. "Y'think they saw me?"

"Of course they saw you. They just thought you were a girl. So they didn't see you very well." Jak grinned crookedly. "And that's what will be all over campus by tomorrow afternoon. The cheerleaders are going to put a hit out on me."

Dax managed an unsteady snicker. "Yeah, well. Maybe you were kinda right about the whole 'this ain't the place fer this' thing." His shaking hands came up to take hold of Jak's collar. "Wanna go home? Would that be a better place?"

"A _much _better place." Jak stepped back, allowing Daxter to separate himself from the siding. "Where's your jacket?"

"In'a kitchen someplace. I think." The redhead was pondering the question when the door banged open once again.

Jinx stepped out onto the cold concrete. "There you guys are! I was lookin' all over for ya."

"Just getting some fresh air," Jak offered amiably. He was suddenly grateful for their earlier fright, in a way; it had allowed his very obvious boner to dissipate. He had absolutely zero desire for Jinx of all people to guess that something was up. Not that he thought his instructor would spread the gossip around—he knew for a fact Jinx would privately tease him about it for the rest of the year and possibly beyond.

"Fresh air my ass. It's freezin' out here." The blonde shot an unimpressed look at the sky before his gaze settled on Daxter. "You doin' okay, Red? Yer lookin' a little rough around the edges."

Daxter smoothed ineffectually at his wrinkled shirt. His hair was mussed and his face was still pink. "M'okay."

"You sure? You've been hittin' it pretty hard tonight."

"I'm fine, jeez! I just… feel a lil' dizzy. Think I'm gonna go home with Jak."

Jinx tsk'ed in sympathy. "Probably not a bad idea. Don't worry about it, Red. Everybody deals with the same problem when they first start partyin'—the spirit is willing, but the stomach can only hold so much booze."

Jak rolled his eyes heavenward. "And on that note of infinite wisdom, we're leaving." He held open the door for the other two as they headed back into the warmth and light of the kitchen.

Daxter found his jacket draped over a stool. They said their goodbyes to Jinx, then snuck back out the back door and made their way around the side of the house. There wasn't a pressing need to give the party the slip this time, but at that point Jak almost thought it would be better this way. Let everyone think he had snuck off with some girl. At least he would have a believable excuse for ditching the party so early.

"Hey, Jak?" Daxter asked when they reached the sidewalk and began the trek back toward Praxis Hall. "Can we take the shuttle bus this time? I wasn't lyin' 'bout feelin' dizzy."

"Yeah, sure. Come on, there's a stop up here we can wait at."

Jak let Daxter lean against him as they stood at the bus stop, leeching his warmth and steady support. The redhead was shivering harder. He would really have to get a proper winter coat soon, one way or another. Luckily they didn't have long to wait.

When the shuttle arrived, they became the only two passengers. Jak tucked an arm around his friend's shoulders in the low light and felt Daxter's ribcage expand and deflate in a deep sigh. A head landed on his shoulder. Life was good.

**{EDITED}**

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	19. Chapter 19

**AN:** **As usual, this chapter is edited for content. The original chapter can be found on adultfanfiction dot org.**

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

"You know, it's a good thing I showered last night. And put on deodorant."

Daxter muttered something unintelligible from his spot between Jak's chest and arm. Every time the quarterback tried to shift so Dax wouldn't be so squashed, he would squirm in even closer. Jak wasn't sure if his bedmate was cold, massively hung over, mortally embarrassed, or a combination of all three.

"Hey." Very gently Jak tugged on the tip of one long ear. "We have to get up eventually."

Daxter whined and didn't look up.

"On a scale of one to ten, how sick do you feel?" Jak asked.

Finally, a muffled reply. "If ya mean how much I feel like I'm gonna puke, three. If ya mean how much does my head feel like it's gonna detonate like a Jinx experiment, three hundred."

Jak sighed. He had been expecting as much. He reached up and began to softly smooth his friend's rumpled hair. "Well, you did drink a hell of a lot last night."

"Which was entirely yer fault."

"My fault? You were drunk when I got there!"

"Which was one hundred percent directly related ta you bein' a cock tease. We been over this, fake jock." Bold words, but when the redhead finally lifted his face from where it had been buried it was the picture of uncertainty. "… yer not pissed at me, are ya? I mean, ya did say last night that you've been flirtin' with me an' I didn't just hallucinate that after four too many of Jinx's nasty turkey soda cocktails, right? 'Cause if I did, then—"

"No, you weren't hallucinating." Jak cut off the increasingly panicked rambling. "I have been hitting on you. And now you can hit on me back, because we're going to take full advantage of being newly inducted friends with benefits and experiment the hell out of fooling around with another guy, like college idiots do. Okay?"

Daxter blinked up at him. "…friends with benefits. Yeah, I think I can deal with that."

"Good." Jak smiled. "So, how about a deal. If you let me get up, I'll personally go downstairs and get you whatever you want to drink with your aspirin. As long as it's decaf. You need to rehydrate."

It took Daxter a few seconds to think it over. Free drinks versus continued free body heat. At last he sighed deeply and slowly slid out of the bunk, allowing Jak to emerge into the chilly room. "Juice. Gimme juice."

Jak shrugged into a sweatshirt as Daxter buried himself back in the blankets. "What kind?"

"I dunno. Surprise me. As long as it ain't cranberry."

"Got it. Hang tight and I'll be right back." Jak grabbed his keys and headed out, sparing a look back at the redhead curling up in the warm spot he had just left. A quick trip to the bathroom, and he would commence getting Daxter back on his feet. It was their first morning of break. The sooner Dax recovered, the sooner they could enjoy themselves.

In whatever way they decided to.

- / - / - / - / -

When Jak left, Daxter curled into a ball in the suddenly spacious bunk and tried to calm his nerves along with the pounding of his head.

It was an immeasurable relief that Jak was still cool with what had happened last night. He wasn't sure what he would have done with the knowledge that he had thrown himself at the quarterback like the worst of the football team's groupies if Jak hadn't been there to reassure him.

_I can't believe I blew him. That was totally not part of the plan, _Dax thought, unable to decide if he was proud of making the evening worth Jak's while or if he was ashamed of himself for doing it so readily. Once not so very long ago in a dingy gym locker room he had fought tooth and nail, prepared to take a sound beating over a football player's dick in his mouth. Last night he had practically jumped the alpha football player to do that very thing.

His face began to burn at the memory, but once again that shame was balanced by the certainty of how much Jak had enjoyed it. _I guess crazy guy-crushes count fer a lot, _he reasoned, lingering unease placated by the mental image of Jak's strong features tensed in bliss.

… Jak had said that it would be his turn to get off today.

With a groan, Daxter buried his thoroughly red face in the pillow. The thought of Jak touching him as he lay unresisting instead of him touching Jak caused an immediate surge of horrible, wonderful, terrifying, deliciously arousing nervousness. Without his liquid crutch from the night before how stupid was he going to look, fumbling through the motions of sex with no experience whatsoever?

O_h god. What if he wants to fuck me? Full-throttle, real-deal, all-the-way fuck me?! _The hitherto unconsidered thought that Jak might want more than a mere hand job or oral almost made him scream in blind panic. _Holy shit, I can't do that! Not yet! Maybe not ever! _Would the quarterback be mad if Daxter told him that? Would he think Dax had led him on? Maybe he wouldn't want to fool around together anymore. Maybe they wouldn't even be friends anymore! _Oh my god, why didn't I think this through before I sucked his dick?!_

The redhead could only panic for so long, however, before reason prevailed.

The simple fact was, Jak didn't work that way. This was the guy who ran from cheerleaders when a wink and a smile could have gotten him laid every night for the whole semester. He wouldn't be angry now just because Daxter didn't want to go all the way.

_Okay, okay. Calm down._ Freaking out hadn't helped his headache any, and Dax tucked himself lower in the blankets with a sigh. It was nice of Jak to take care of him, anyway, despite what a dope he had been the night before. Maybe he would bring Jak a large specialty pizza after work to make up for it. _Yeah, pizza's definitely the way to his heart, _Dax reflected._ Everything'll be fine. It'll be a good vacation._

He was thinking such encouraging thoughts, almost able to slip back to sleep, when someone knocked on the door.

"Seriously?" he moaned, pulling himself out of the bunk for the second time that morning. "Dude, how long have we been livin' here an' you still can't remember ta take your keys with ya when you leave?"

Daxter grumbled his way to the door, trying not to feel too put upon. If he hadn't wanted juice Jak wouldn't have left in the first place. He pulled open the door and stepped back automatically to give his roommate room to enter.

"Looks like it's my lucky morning."

Daxter's head snapped up at the unexpected voice. Standing in the doorway, wearing a cordial smile that didn't reach his eyes, was Erol. The smaller redhead stared up at the unexpected visitor dumbly. "Uh…"

"I hope you don't mind if I come in." Then there was a hand on the door, forcing it open wider.

Daxter threw his weight behind the wood a second too late. Smaller and much less muscled, he was hardly a challenge as Erol strode in, sweeping his inconsequential human road block against the wall behind the door as he did so. Dax drew his breath to yell—maybe Phoenix or Torn or _somebody _would be willing to come help—and then Erol had a hand over his mouth, effectively smothering any noise that might have had a prayer of being heard out in the hall.

"None of that, now. You don't want to ruin the fun right off the bat. We're not even set up properly yet."

The instinct to struggle and make this as difficult for his aggressor as possible fought with the learned urge to go limp and pray that lack of resistance would make the beating up that was sure to follow a little less severe. The ragdoll tactic had worked many times to his quasi-advantage.

He settled for biting the hand over his mouth.

A moment later he hit the bottom bunk on his back, hard enough that the air in his lungs bailed out with a whoosh. As he tried to get upright, something cold and hard closed around his wrist. It pulled hard, forcing his arm over his head, and before he could retaliate the other wrist had suffered the same treatment. _Fuckin' __**handcuffs**__?_ he had time to think dazedly, and then the hand was back over his mouth once more.

"Quit squirming, you little weasel," Erol growled almost boredly. As Daxter watched frantically over the hand slowly cutting off his air supply, the older redhead pulled a roll of duct tape from his jacket pocket. "Okay, here's how this is going to work…"

- / - / - / - / -

Jak whistled softly to himself as he climbed the stairs, spinning a bottle of orange juice around his fingers. It was shaping up to be an excellent mini vacation. Not only had none of the juice options been out of stock, unheard of for a Wednesday morning, but the line for fresh bacon and waffles had been nonexistent. A take out bag full of hot breakfast goodies swung from his triumphant grasp. He could get used to eighty percent of the dorm being gone.

Reaching their room, the quarterback shifted his breakfast and pulled out his keys, letting himself in quickly and quietly. He didn't want to wake Daxter up if his roommate had managed to fall back to sleep after all.

Sleep seemed to be the last thing that was going to happen in their room, however.

Killer was running laps around his condo, a steady stream of high-pitched ferret noise blending with the rattle of shaken plastic and wire, perfectly complimenting the muffled yelling from the bottom bunk. There, in Jak's bed, the room's human occupant was a bit tied up at the moment. Literally.

Daxter was on his back, bent almost double. His feet braced against the slats that lined the underside of the top bunk, giving him leverage to pull futilely against the handcuffs securing his wrists to the bunk bed post above his head.

Jak dropped his waffles.

At the sound of the plastic bag hitting the floor, Daxter's head jerked up. When he saw Jak he began to yell even louder, whatever words he was trying to form effectively smothered by the length of shiny silver tape over his mouth. His thrashing redoubled.

"What the hell is going on?!" Jak was at the bunk in an instant, disregarding the syrup beginning to ooze across the floor behind him. He grabbed the corner of the tape and pulled it off Daxter's mouth as gently as he could, but it still garnered a yelp.

"Jak, I do not like this, Jak, I'm freakin' out here—!" The verbal deluge poured forth as soon as the tape was free and red lips could move again. "I need to not be tied up, Jak, get me loose!"

The quarterback grabbed his friend's wrists and fumbled with the handcuffs that secured him to the bed. "Okay, I'm fixing it, but you have to stop pulling! Did you do this to _yourself_?"

"Hell no I didn't do this ta myself, ya freakin' nut job!" Daxter yelled. "I ain't that kinky, I promise!" He did, however, stop flopping like an out of water goldfish long enough for Jak to determine that the little lever that should have tripped the latch mechanism on the handcuffs, like the pair he and Keira used to play cops and robbers with when they were kids, was missing.

"These are real cuffs. Dax, who did this?"

"Well, gee, I dunno, fake jock! Who do we know who's got access ta real police issue handcuffs and is also a psychopathic asshole out ta make my life a living hell fer reasons I can't even begin to grasp?!"

"Since Razer isn't in the criminal justice department, I guess that means I'm about to go scatter Erol's teeth all over the hallway," Jak said flatly, and stood abruptly. That snake had the nerve to come into _his_ room and do this to _his_ friend? The quarterback was going to—

"No, no, no, no, Jak, wait!" Daxter yelled, twisting around in a panic when it seemed like Jak might actually charge off right then and there in pursuit of justice. "He's long gone, pal! Just get me loose, please!"

Jak turned a frustrated half circle, hands in his hair. As much as he wanted to drop everything and draw blood, Dax was right. First thing had to be first. "Okay, okay, right. Just—damn! I was only gone for fifteen minutes! How did he know when to—and why did you even let him in?"

"I dunno, maybe he was stakin' us out! That's creepy as hell, by the way. An' I let him in because I thought he was you! I opened the door an' bam." The redhead huffed in what might have been embarrassment. "Anyway. I don't think he was kind enough ta leave us a key ta these stupid things. What're we gonna do, Jak?" He glanced beseechingly up at the green-blonde.

After a moment's consideration, Jak grabbed the bed frame. "I'm going to pull the beds apart." Though most roommates opted to keep the beds bunked simply to save meager room space, they could be un-bunked. A long metal rod went down the center of each bed post, keeping both frames securely fitted together. "I should be able to lift the top bunk enough. When I lift, pull the chain out."

"Right, right." Daxter sat up as straight as he was able and, crossing his wrists tightly, managed squirm around to face the bed post.

Jak gave a heave. The end of the top bunk rose easily off the bottom bunk, leaving a clear gap between wooden socket and metal rod that Daxter quickly pulled the chain through. The frame clunked back together as the redhead fell back on the mattress.

"Well, at least I'm not attached ta the bed anymore," he said, tugging the chain to its meager limit as if hoping that it might decide to play nice and let him free. "Don't suppose you know how ta pick locks?"

Jak stared hard at the problematic device. "The lock on an old barn door? Sure. The lock on a pair of new handcuffs? Probably not."

"Great," Daxter whined, ears drooping miserably. "It's been one'a my life goals ta stay out'a juvie, an' here I am stuck in cuffs. What am I gonna do, Jak?"

"Preferably I'd like to wipe the floor with Erol until he coughs up the key," Jak growled, "but we have no idea where he is or how long it'll take to find him, or even if he used a pair of cuffs that actually _have_ a key. I wouldn't put it past him."

Daxter drooped even further at the thought.

Jak sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I hate to say it, but we might have to go to Torn on this one."

"What?" Daxter balked. "No! No way I want Tattooed Wonder findin' out about this!"

"It's ask Torn for help or go ask the campus police if they have a spare key."

"… so, where do you think our excellent RA might be on a Wednesday morning, Jak?"

As it turned out, the radio was playing in Torn's room. Jak knocked firmly, hoping that the RA would make this quick. Daxter stood nervously behind him, ears low, glancing furtively up and down the hall to make sure no one was going to happen by and ask the obvious question about his new wrist accessories. Luckily the dorm remained mostly deserted.

Equally lucky, the door was opened surprisingly quickly.

"I'm assuming you two didn't come here to visit, so what do you need?" Torn asked tiredly.

Jak cleared his throat. "Um. Help?"

"As beautifully vague as that is, I'm going to need you to elaborate," Torn deadpanned. "Unless the answer is so horrible that I don't want to know, in which case—"

Daxter stepped out from behind Jak and held up his hands. "Just can it an' help us figure out how ta get these off me, wise ass."

Torn stared at Daxter. Then at Jak. Jak and Daxter stared right back. Finally he stepped aside and opened his door wider with a deep sigh. "I've got a key to the maintenance closet. Wait here."

"See, that wasn't so bad," Jak encouraged as Torn disappeared down the hall. He ushered Daxter into the RA's room, out of sight of potential curious eyes until Torn returned. "Torn's a good guy when you need him to be. Could have been a lot worse, right?"

"A lot worse like Jinx could'a slept over with Torn last night, an' now he's gonna know all about this too?" Daxter asked flatly.

A loud snore punctuated the redhead's words.

Slowly, Jak looked back over his shoulder.

Jinx lay sprawled across the couch against the far wall, a tangle of blankets and dirty blonde hair. A jungle of textbooks, notebooks, highlighters, loose papers, empty cups, and crumpled taco wrappers littered the ground around the sofa, attesting to a successful academic sleepover.

The quarterback covered his eyes with one hand. "Okay. Yeah. That's a lot worse."

- / - / - / - / -

If Daxter had been displeased at finding Jinx witness to the sideshow he had unwillingly created, he was positively irate when Torn returned with company.

"Oh, come on! What's _she_ doing here?!" he yelled as Ashelin followed the older RA into the increasingly crowded room. As if it wasn't bad enough that Torn and Jinx would see this; now the hot babe down the hall would know his shame. Seriously, fuck life this morning.

"That's a very good question," Torn grumbled, shutting the door behind her.

Ashelin smirked. "I saw you lifting a pair of bolt cutters from the tool closet. You really think I wouldn't want to know what's going on in here?"

"She's got a point," Jinx agreed, though a grand total of no one had asked for his opinion. He had woken up quickly (possibly with the help of a swift kick from Jak) and was slightly more upright on the sofa, putting his hair up into its customary ponytail. "So what's the story, Red? You hit up an even wilder party on yer way home last night?"

Daxter's ears slanted back, slowly turning red at the remembrance of what he actually _had_ been doing the night before. "No, I did not go to another party. Can we just get this over with, please?" He extended his hands and shook them pitifully.

Jak plucked the bolt cutters from Torn's grasp and sat down on the RA's bed, beckoning Daxter to join him. "Here, I got this. Hold still."

The redhead scrambled to oblige. He held his breath as Jak placed the cutters and squeezed. There was a grunt of effort from the quarterback, a tug, a snap, and the short chain fell in two. Jak hummed in satisfaction and repositioned the blades around the first length of metal circling Daxter's wrist.

"But really, what's with the cuffs?" Ashelin asked. She had taken up a perch on the edge of Torn's desk, shapely bottom disrupting the sea of post-it notes stuck there. "You're not on the run from the law, are you?"

"Oh, good. If the police take him maybe I'll actually enjoy this so-called break," Torn muttered.

"Sit on it an' spin," Daxter hissed as Jak tried to find the angle that would grip the metal loop without nipping the skin underneath.

"Not so much the police as one seriously creepy asshole with a police fetish who likes to force his way into people's dorm rooms," Jak grumbled. The bolt cutters bit into metal, but didn't quite make it through. "Torn, what do you know about filing police reports for forced entry and chaining someone to a bunk bed?"

"What?!" Torn and Jinx yelled in unison, the latter nearly falling off the sofa in surprise.

"Jak!" Daxter screeched in disbelief as, with a second hard squeeze of the cutters, the cuff loosened on his wrist. "We are not filin' any freakin' reports! Why'd you tell them?!"

The quarterback dropped the broken cuff off the edge of the bed. "Of course we're filing a report!" he argued. "You don't not report an assault!"

"Okay, whoa. Time out. I want this whole thing absolutely straight." Ashelin glanced from the two on the bed to her fellow RA. "Is this person from your hall or mine?"

Torn was scowling. "If it's who I'm sure it is, he doesn't even live on this floor. Erol, right?"

"Yes, it was Erol, okay? Ha, ha, let's all laugh at the stupid prank Daxter was dumb enough to let happen to him an' drop it, huh?" Daxter said desperately as Jak set to work on the last cuff. This whole thing was rapidly spiraling outside his control, something he didn't like in the least.

"He came into your room uninvited and tied you up against your will. I think I have to side with Jak on this one," Ashelin said seriously. "Pretty sure that qualifies as assault, and that needs to be reported."

"Damn right it does! No one comes into my hall and—"

"Hang on, Torn," Jinx interrupted, cutting off his friend's budding tirade. "Red's got a point."

Daxter perked up immediately. "I do?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. Is there really any way we can prove malicious intent, here? People do stupid shit ta each other all the time in the dorms. Are most'a those things really bad ideas? Sure. Are most'a those things criminal offenses? No. An' don't forget how many friends the guy's already got on the force."

"Bullshit! That doesn't mean he can—"

"No, it don't, but just think about it fer a second." It was strange to see the usually laid back lab instructor so serious. Strange and somehow unsettling. "Erol's got connections and he knows all the legal loopholes because of those connections. Let's say we file a report. What happens? It goes straight ta the people who're already on his side. He claims it was all a joke an' gets a warning, at best. We don't got a leg ta stand on. An' then he might give Red even more trouble."

"Yeah, yeah, that last thing!" Daxter pointed out frantically. "Trouble is bad! If we just let it go, everything'll be fine!"

"That's what you said after what happened in the showers, too," Jak started angrily.

Daxter slapped a hand over the green-blonde's mouth. "Ixnay on the owershay, fake jock. That happened so long ago it seriously wouldn't even matter now."

Torn raised a brow, but ultimately let the exchange go uncommented on. "I still don't like it. He can't be allowed to think he can do whatever the hell he pleases around here with impunity."

"I know what yer sayin', pal," Jinx sympathized. "Nobody wants that scumbag ta get what's coming to him more than me. But I've dealt with the guy around campus before an' talked to other people who have. I know how he operates. He's got a whole network. We got nothin' on him."

"Actually… maybe we do."

Everyone looked to Ashelin in surprise.

"Is this Erol a tall redhead? Does he have ink like yours, Torn?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes." Torn looked like he might have been regretting his tattoos the slightest bit. "We were… loosely affiliated after high school. Same gang. Worst mistake I ever made."

"Well, your life choices aside, I saw your creep in our stairwell about half an hour ago, leaving our floor. I was coming back up from breakfast. I almost gave him a verbal warning about being on the floor unaccompanied, but I couldn't remember whether or not he was one of your residents." Ashelin frowned. "I should have written him up."

"If I'm not forgetting page eleven of the RA handbook, you still can." Torn thought it over, ears back in concentration. "Okay. So at the very least, we have visual confirmation from an authority figure that he was somewhere he shouldn't have been. That's something. Ashelin, I want you to—"

"I'll find out what floor he lives on and what room he's in and slap him with a write up. If we ever catch him down here again, he'll get another one and it will go in front of the dorm managers. Another offense after that and he'll be kicked out of the building permanently."

"Right." The older RA nodded in grudging approval. "And in the meantime, I'll write up a report of my own—names excluded," he assured, giving Daxter a sidelong glare when it seemed the redhead might take issue with his plan. "I've been saying for two years now that we need cameras in the hallways. There was last spring break's glitter bomb, the slip-n-slide incident right at the end of last semester, and now this. We _need _to be able to monitor who's coming and going on every floor and what they're doing."

"Wait a minute, there was a slip-n-slide party in yer hallway? An' you didn't call me? What kind'a friend are you?" Jinx whined.

"The kind who let you get crumbs and drool all over my couch last night, you ingrate."

"Oh, please. Ain't the worst thing that's been on yer couch—oww, hey, no hitting!"

At that, the impromptu summit seemed to take the cue to adjourn.

Ashelin hopped off the desk, straightened her pajama bottoms, and gave Torn a mock salute. "I'll let you know when I've served the written warning. Keep me posted on what the managers say about the cameras. If worse comes to worse, I can always ask my father to donate the funds for some. He's always up for some good publicity."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, but… thank you," Torn allowed, though he looked like the words caused him physical pain as he opened the door to see her on her way.

As soon as she was gone, Jinx aimed a smarmy smirk at his friend. "Admit it, yer sweet on her. Beauty, brains, and a knack fer authority—" He hit the couch face first a moment later, elegantly KO'd by a high velocity beanbag chair.

Daxter took the opportunity to slink out unnoticed, Jak hot on his heels.

"There is something seriously wrong with those guys," Jak said as they made their way back to their own room.

Daxter rubbed absently at his sore wrists. They were already beginning to bruise. "I dunno. At least we know that Tattooed Wonder won't die of malnutrition in there an' nobody find his body fer weeks. Jinx'll make sure he's got some semblance of a social life."

"I'm more worried about him killing Jinx and hiding the body in his wardrobe."

"Aww, you do care about Jinx. How sweet."

"How about not."

When they reached their room, the smell of maple syrup was overpowering. Killer was staring attentively up from his cage, licking his lips in expectation. Jak sighed as he surveyed what was left of his breakfast. "Well, I guess I know what I'm doing today. The floor needed mopped anyway." He picked up the syrup-soaked bag and fished out a waffle that had managed to stay inside the take out box. "We need to do the laundry, too."

"We? What's this I'm hearin' about 'we?' No way, pal." Daxter dug around inside their all-purpose drawer for the half full bottle of painkillers left over from Jak's high impact encounter on the gridiron. "The only thing my ass is doin' today is takin' a nap. And maybe a shower. And maybe finding food that isn't pizza. Later." He twisted the cap off the orange juice Jak had brought in and chased the pills with a long drink that immediately did wonders for soothing his case of dry mouth.

Jak stopped sucking syrup off his fingertips long enough to ask, "Does your head still hurt?"

"Like the marching band's holdin' practice between my ears." The redhead dropped heavily into his desk chair and rubbed his face with both hands. "Last night was just stupid. How many of those nasty things did I even drink?"

"I don't know," Jak chuckled. "You sucked most of them down before I got there, remember?" His fond smile never wavered, but his eyes slowly grew more intense. "Not everything about last night was completely stupid, you know."

Daxter immediately found somewhere else to look as heat rushed to his face and ears. "Y-yeah, I guess not."

"Why don't you let me try to make your headache better?" Jak asked, sitting down on the edge of his bunk with an inviting half smile that promised a lot more than just a shoulder rub.

The redhead's beats per minute abruptly accelerated like an Indy car. This was it! This was totally going to happen and he wasn't drunk this time! "Uh, w-well, I—okay," he stammered smoothly. He was actually rising from his chair when reason and pride prevailed. "Wait a second! I mean, no way! I'm mad at you." He dropped back into the chair, turned away, and crossed his arms with a huff.

Jak blinked. "Mad at me? Why?"

"Because I went along with yer brilliant plan of askin' Torn fer help so I could get the stupid cuffs off, not so everybody'd find out what happened an' go on a an anti-Erol crusade! That guy's gonna pulverize me! That's what happens when ya fight back, fake jock—it gets worse!"

The quarterback drug a hand over his face. He looked like he was trying hard not to lose his temper. "Dax… Okay, look. I get it. I get why you think that. You think that because you've spent your whole life with no help and no other options, and you've been conditioned to believe that if you retaliate you'll just get hurt worse. It pisses me off like you can't even comprehend, but I understand."

Daxter made the distinct effort to close his mouth. Occasionally he still managed to forget that his roommate spent more time watching and thinking than talking, and Jak was observant.

"But there's something I don't think _you_ understand yet, Dax."

He swallowed tightly. "Yeah? What's that?"

"That you've got me now. You've got me, and Torn, and Jinx and Phoenix and Taryn and Ximon and you've got _friends_, Dax, who have your back, and you don't need to be afraid anymore." Jak's blue eyes narrowed in obvious anger. "Oh, and also, Erol is not some almighty demigod that gets to be shitty to people because he just feels like it. If he treats you like this, he's treating other people like this. Maybe he got away with that in high school, but in the real world, no. Screw that. We're going to shut this down one way or another."

Daxter quailed back in his chair, ears low. That might very well have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, but that didn't change the fact that he'd made Jak mad. Again.

And Jak, true to form, seemed to know instantly what was wrong. "Hey, no, Dax—I'm not mad _at _you. I'm mad _for _you. And I don't want you to be mad at me, but I guess you probably will be, because…" The green-blonde shrugged almost helplessly. "I can't let Erol get away with this. I just can't. Guys like him hurt people who can't stand up for themselves. _I_ can stand up."

… oh God. Daxter's eyes were stinging. Why did he feel like crying?! "Heh. I know ya can, fake jock." He looked away quickly to hide the tell-tale watering. "An' I'm not mad at ya. Not really. I'm just… I wish this whole morning never happened."

"Well, that makes two of us," Jak sighed ruefully. "Not the best way to start a break, is it."

"I think a root canal might be more fun. Also dry shavin' a rabid badger. An' maybe also cleanin' the dumpster at work. With a toothbrush." Daxter took a deep, steadying breath and stood up from his chair. "Anyway, I think I heard somebody say they could get rid'a my headache. Wanna put yer money where yer mouth is, big shot?"

The seriousness that left Jak's face was slowly replaced by a mischievous smirk. "Alright. Come on over and prepare to unwind."

"Unwind, huh?" Though privately Daxter was getting more wound up by the moment, he took a tentative seat next to Jak on the rumbled bed.

"Believe it or not, I'm good for more than football and feeding the ferret." Jak's hands landed on the redhead's shoulders and urged him to face the other way.

"Yeah, I bet yer mechanic girl had ya well trained." Daxter relaxed marginally as those strong hands began to knead his shoulders. "… but seriously, if this is gonna be anything like that massage from the other night, consider me so unwound I'm comatose. You should minor in shoulder rubs."

Jak chuckled. "Well, physical therapy and sports education can dovetail sometimes."

_Like shoulder rubs and boners? _he almost asked, but bit his lip at the last second and sighed contentedly instead as the rhythmic kneading began to do its job. He closed his eyes and let his ears go lax as knots he hadn't even known were there began to loosen. _Mmm. Jakkie-boy should get a double minor—shoulder rubs and seduction._

Speaking of which…

Daxter cleared his throat, kept his eyes closed against whatever backlash might be forthcoming, and broached a topic that should probably be discussed sooner rather than later. "Hey, Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"Y'know the, uh… friendly benefits thing we talked about this mornin'?"

"Uh-huh." The quarterback's thumbs ran up and down the back of Daxter's neck, teasing out sensations that bloomed into a case of full-body shivers. "You're not changing your mind already, are you?" he teased.

"Dude, I did things last night I never thought I'd do in a million years," the redhead said wryly. "And I'm kinda strangely mostly cool with that. So no, I'm not backin' out." He shuddered as Jak's hands left his shoulders and wandered down his upper arms, tracing the subtle muscles of his biceps. "I just… how many benefits are we talkin' about, here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how far are we gonna take all this?" Dax mumbled. He could feel his cheeks and ear tips reddening. "Are we just gonna do hand jobs an' stuff—" oh shit this was so awkward "—or is it gonna be, like, _everything?_ Like whipped cream an' bondage an' junk? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, oh god, please don't be pissed when I tell ya, I really don't want the D in my A, if ya know what I'm sayin'." He gulped a deep breath, then shot a suspicious glare over his shoulder. "What the hell's so funny?"

Jak's laughter wasn't entirely muffled in the back of Daxter's shoulder. "One: If I wanted bondage and whipped cream, I would have brought it up this morning when you were cuffed to my bed. Two: I know what you're saying. I really don't want that either. I think that's still a little bit too experimental for me."

Daxter was relieved enough to snicker. "What, you mean there's still sex the almighty quarterback hasn't experienced? Mechanic girl didn't have the correct hardware ta get too freaky with ya?"

An almost disturbed look drifted across Jak's face. "When Keira doesn't have the hardware she needs, she _makes_ the hardware. And if you had seen the size of some of the stuff she's got stashed in her 'special tool box,' you would understand even more why I shut that down before it began." He huffed. "Actually I had to do her homework for a week over chickening out of that challenge."

"Pffff! That's amazing!" Daxter cackled. "Did she make ya do it in a French maid outfit?"

"You are seriously warped," Jak growled playfully. "I think I better give you something to laugh about!" His hands jumped from Daxter's arms to his stomach, tickling mercilessly through his thin tee-shirt.

"Ack, no fair!" Dax shrieked and tried to bolt, but Jak was too close. The quarterback's arms tightened, pulling the writhing redhead back onto the bed—and onto Jak's lap. "Oh my god, you are awful!" Dax sobbed through his hysterical laughter. His stomach was Tickle Zone Numero Uno and Jak knew it. "Uncle, damn it! Uncle!"

"Nope, sorry. If Uncle was here he wouldn't help you either."

"Mercyyyy!" Daxter wailed, convulsing in Jak's arms.

The tickling stopped instantly. "Now, was that so hard?"

Daxter went limp, back propped against Jak's solid chest as he heaved and panted for air. "You really suck at this relaxing thing today, y'know that?" he huffed breathlessly.

Jak laughed. "Like I said, we need to do laundry anyway."

"Way ta ruin a moment, fake jock." Then another thought occurred. "Hey, Jak? Does last night mean I'm, like… not a virgin anymore?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"'Cause bein' de-virginized would be awesome, duh."

Jak thought about it. "Yeah, I'd say you've had sex."

"Woo-hoo!" Daxter pumped a fist in victory. "Number one goal in life: achieved!"

"Oh, no, now what will you do? You'll have to find a much less significant goal like graduating from college," Jak deadpanned. He hoisted the redhead out of his lap with little effort, setting him on his feet. "Shower, then laundry?"

"Alriiiiight, laundry. I think I got some quarters around here somewhere." The proposition of a day full of chores suddenly didn't sound quite so bad. He had a feeling this was going to be the start of the best vacation ever.

Jak stood and casually began to strip.

_Oh yeah,_ Dax thought, staring avidly and biting his lip. _Definitely the best vacation ever._

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	20. Chapter 20

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

The worst thing about breaks from class, Jak reflected, was that they all eventually ended. And when class was back in session again the workload usually doubled.

He and Daxter had spent an excellent vacation testing the waters of their newfound arrangement. Jak had learned that the redhead wasn't quite ready to be rendered entirely clothes-less when they played, but would melt contentedly into an embrace during the afterglow. Daxter had learned that the quarterback wasn't quite ready to return blowjobs, but loved it when fingers were carded through his hair. And they had both learned that the warm, dim, fabric softener-scented basement laundry room was all but deserted during breaks, becoming the perfect place to pin your roommate to a rumbling dryer for an illicit interlude while the socks were on spin cycle.

In between all that, the two had managed to enjoy their leisure time to the fullest. Jak racked up an eighty-seven dollar phone bill talking to Keira, who had gone home for the holiday, and Uncle, who was still in Belize but swore he would be home by the time Jak's winter break rolled around in mid-December. The nearly deserted campus meant less business coming in, so Daxter was allowed to skip shifts at Pizza Haven, much to his delight. Both boys had lain around, watched TV, eaten snacks, and taken well-deserved naps, both alone and piled together in Jak's bunk.

On Thanksgiving Day they had met up with Phoenix and Razer at the Student Center banquet hall for a formal holiday dinner that had been arranged for all the students still on campus. Razer had been in a remarkably good mood, as had Phoenix, and the foursome had passed a very companionable evening. The next day they had all gone to a movie together.

It had been an amazing break.

And then, of course, it had ended. Professors hit the ground running on Monday morning, dumping metric tons of homework on their classes in preparation for the looming final exams that were right around the corner.

It was that homework that Jak and Daxter were currently languishing over.

Jak felt that he was doing pretty well powering through his pile. Three bottles of sports drink and half a pizza sat at his elbow. Killer lay snoozing in his lap. His sociology was finished, as were English and math. He was almost through with the chem. lab review packet Jinx had handed out. A pretty good place to be, considering it was only Thursday night.

Daxter, however, didn't seem to be doing quite as well.

The redhead kept shifting positions in his chair. Papers rustled as he dug through the pile of that sprawled across his desk. He was popping some kind of hard candy like a drug, crunching loudly every thirty seconds or so. Calculator keys clicked madly against a backdrop of muttered cursing.

Jak had to hide a smile. "Doing okay over there Dax?"

"As a matter of fact, no. No, I am not! This is bullshit!" Daxter threw his hands up in frustration, pencil clacking as it landed on his open book. "There's no way I'm gonna get all this crap done in time! I might as well face it, I'm gonna fail everything. It's over. End of story."

"You aren't going to fail anything. Give yourself some credit."

"It's just not gonna happen, fake jock! Just look at all this!" He gestured at the piles of books and binders on his desk. "I'm not even half done with this math yet an' I still got two chapters of Spanish I haven't even touched—two chapters! How the heck am I supposed ta memorize two chapters worth'a vocab plus sentence structure before Monday? I gotta work all weekend!" Daxter jabbed at the calendar hanging next to his desk. "I literally cannot believe finals are next week. Where did the semester go, Jak?! It's just not possible. They gave us five whole days off with nothin' ta do, then all of a sudden we're back in class fer a week, review fer one measly day, then bam! Exam hell! An' I can't even friggin' _concentrate_—!"

"Why can't you concentrate?" Jak asked, jumping in to cut off the tirade before his excitable roommate had some kind of episode.

Daxter suddenly seemed to deflate, letting out a startled breath. "Uh. I… I just can't right now." He looked at Jak sidelong, the beginnings of a blush showing on his cheeks in the lamplight. "How about you? How're you doin'?"

"Oh, I'm doing alright," Jak said casually. A spark of mischief made him bite his lip against the teasing grin that wanted to emerge. In his lap Killer yawned, stretched, and slithered to the floor. "Why don't you take a break, Dax?" he suggested innocently. "It might help you concentrate if you focus on something else for a while."

"Yeah, maybe…"

Silence reigned after that, but the redhead didn't seem to be heeding Jak's advice—not unless his idea of taking a break consisted of stealing glances at Jak and then pretending he wasn't doing so.

Of course Jak wasn't oblivious to the sideways glances being darted at him from across the room. Far from it. He was fully aware of his roommate's blossoming interest and returned it wholeheartedly. But where would the fun be in divulging that information too soon? It was much better to make Daxter squirm a little and see what he would do.

After ten more minutes of squirmy redhead, Jak began to return the covert peeks. Soon enough, Daxter's gaze lingered a little too long. Their eyes met through the shadowed forest of bunk bed posts and Daxter jumped almost guiltily. Jak arched a green brow and grinned. _What?_ He couldn't help but laugh when Dax blushed brightly and snapped his attention back to the book in front of him.

"What's so funny?" Daxter mumbled, ears laid back in embarrassment as he slouched lower in his chair.

"You." No one could ever accuse Jak of being a liar. "Was there something you needed?"

"N-no."

Jak stretched languidly, tipping back in his chair as he raised his arms over his head and felt the bottom of his shirt slide up over the waist of his pants. "Are you suuure?"

"Uh…" Daxter stared, wide-eyed.

"Because you know that if you need something, all you have to do is ask, right?"

The redhead nodded mutely as Jak leisurely got up from his chair and switched off the desk lamp. He stretched again and moved the few short steps to the bed, dropping down to sit on the edge of his bunk with his knees wide apart. He looked back to Daxter, then meaningfully dropped his gaze to the bare patch of blanket next to him. The invitation was more than obvious. "So. About that break…"

Slowly, very slowly, Daxter closed his book and stood up from his desk. He crossed the few steps between them so hesitantly it was almost as if the week since they had taken that big first step had been a lifetime. Monday through Friday of classes, studies, divertissements and normalcy seemed to have wiped away what little boldness Dax had scraped up during the long weekend prior. When he came to a stop in front of Jak his ears were low and his hands were twitching absently.

Jak looked up at him and smiled. "Hi."

Daxter just stood there silently, looking a little helpless, that imaginative vocabulary scattered to the winds like a flock of birds at harvest time.

On impulse, Jak reached out and slid his fingers through his fidgeting friend's belt loops. Daxter sucked in a soft gasp as he was reeled in to stand between the quarterback's legs. His hands fell awkwardly to strong shoulders, almost as if he was waiting for a negative response to the touch.

Jak sighed fondly. "Yes, it's still all right."

"Um." Daxter's face was getting noticeably redder in the dim light. "Yeah. Okay. Just didn't wanna… y'know." He looked quickly away, focusing on a shadowed spot in the corner. "If ya changed yer mind or somethin'."

"If I'd changed my mind since Sunday I would have let you know."

"So… ya still don't think it's weird, right, if we keep doin' this kinda stuff—?"

"Dax, sit down." Jak gave a hard tug at the belt loops he still held and suddenly there was a flustered redhead straddling his lap. He grinned smugly, looking into wide blue eyes now that they were nose to nose. "There. That's better."

Daxter shifted uncertainly on his thighs. "I'm not too heavy fer this?"

"No, you're fine." He hardly weighed anything, more like, but Jak wasn't going to tell him that. "Relax. Enjoy your study break."

Relaxing seemed to be easier suggested than done. Daxter's back remained stiff, his body tense. He was still blushing. "Sorry," he muttered. "Just feels like I'm doin' it wrong. Like, hey, I'm in the mood, let's be a total idiot 'til Jak notices." He managed a small grin. "Not much of a mood breaker, huh?"

"Not at all." With that, Jak leaned in to nuzzle a pale throat. There was a surprised huff for his efforts, and after a moment Daxter tipped his head back to give the green-blonde room. It was a surprisingly trusting gesture. Jak smiled, applying his lips to soft skin without a thought.

His hands wandered from belt loops to explore slim hips. Daxter's body structure still fascinated him. Dax was small, all wiry muscle and bony angles, almost feminine if not for the complete lack of girlish padding. It was an intriguing departure from what Jak was used to, and he couldn't help but grip and paw and feel. When he slid his hands under the hem of Daxter's shirt to run curious fingers over the small of his back the redhead shuddered.

"Jak, stop it," he whined, back arching as he tried to evade the ticklish touches. This had the effect of pushing him against Jak's chest and groin, which made him squeak and squirm as he uncertainly tried to decide which way to position himself.

Too cute. Jak smiled and reached up to thread his fingers through the fine red hair at the base of his friend's neck, while his other hand continued to rub and massage over the small of Daxter's back. He was leaning in again, eyes drifting closed in contentment, when he caught himself. Jak blinked. This was where he would have kissed Keira.

While he was still trying not to kiss Daxter, lest he spook the redhead away from this kind of thing altogether, the compulsion to slip him a little tongue was undeniably there. Jak enjoyed kissing, and Daxter was more than deserving of kisses—if he didn't have such an aversion to them. Maybe this time they could give it a shot.

"Hey." He dragged his lips up the side of Daxter's neck and enjoyed the resulting shiver until they were eye to eye again. "Wanna make out?"

For the dumbfounded look on Daxter's face, he might as well have asked the question in another language. "Huh?"

"Do you want to kiss?" Jak clarified with a grin. "It feels weird to be doing this and not kissing at all. Are you alright with it?"

"Wha…? Jak, I… I already told ya I dunno how ta…" His ears were flushed so badly they almost seemed to blend with his hair.

"It's okay. I'll show you. I mean, I will if you don't mind your first real kiss being with me."

Daxter's hands crept up his biceps to rest lightly on his shoulder blades. "W-well, uh—why the hell not? I guess it's better fer yer first kiss ta be with yer best pal than some drunk floozy out'a the sorority houses, huh?"

Jak wholeheartedly agreed; his first kiss had in fact been with his best friend, too, back in the dim mists of time that enshrouded his junior high experience. Without a second thought he cupped the back of Daxter's head and pulled him in. On cue Dax stiffened, his ears shooting vertical as every muscle in his body locked up in surprise. Undeterred, Jak pressed their lips firmly together. There was no fancy head tilting, nothing deep and slobbery, just the simple press of lips. Said lips were dry and a little chapped, no taste of lip gloss, and that was okay with Jak.

Daxter made a little humming noise and tightened his hands in Jak's shirt. His lips twitched against the green-blonde's, as if he didn't know whether or not to open his mouth. Jak pulled back the smallest bit to look at his friend's face. Daxter's eyes were closed, and a dreamy expression tugged at the parted lips so recently occupied elsewhere. Abruptly Jak wanted to run his tongue over the front teeth he could just barely see. So he did.

"Mmmph!" Daxter jumped in surprise at the unexpected invasion, but went limp within seconds. His hands began to knead in Jak's shirt in counterpoint to his suddenly squirmy hips.

Daxter tasted like orange tic-tacs. So that was what he had been nervously crunching on since they had sat down to study soon after dinner. Inexplicably, that fake orange flavor was the greatest damn thing Jak's taste buds had encountered in recent memory. His hands fell automatically to the seat of Daxter's pants and pressed their hips together as he greedily delved deeper, exploring new territory.

"Ah!" Dax let out a breathy gasp as his ass was unceremoniously groped, but almost immediately his tongue made a shy pass of its own.

Slowly, stealthily, Jak began to lean backwards across the bunk. Daxter unwittingly followed, trying to keep up the mouth-to-mouth he seemed to be growing rapidly accustomed to, until with a soft plop Jak landed on his back with a warm, hard redhead stretched over him.

Dazed blue eyes cracked open as Daxter blinked down at him. "Wha…?"

"Hi." Jak smirked. He quickly slid his hands under the waist of Daxter's pants and boxers, repeating the grope without barriers between his fingers and those deliciously firm cheeks. His opinion on one thing hadn't changed in the slightest—his roommate had a damn fine ass.

"Hey!" Dax squirmed, presumably to dislodge the hands, then moaned in surprise when Jak bucked up to meet him. He panted down at Jak, a wry smile fighting to break free even as he tried to glare disapprovingly. "Perv."

Rather than answer, Jak simply flashed a wolfish grin and flipped them. Daxter yelped as he went rolling onto his back, the green-blonde's bigger form settling on top of his. But then, rather than the playful kicks and struggles Jak was expecting, Daxter pressed _closer_ with a little laugh. His head tucked under Jak's chin as thin arms snaked around the quarterback's neck and hugged him tightly. He rolled his hips up into Jak's own, cooing softly, as if completely content to let Jak lead.

_He trusts me._ The thought burst unbidden in Jak's mind, and it made him so glad he dove back down for another deep kiss, stroking his tongue sensually against the other's.

Daxter whimpered quietly. The tension was building in his body again, made obvious by the stilted rocking motion of his lower half. He clutched at Jak's hair as a kiss landed on the underside of his jaw, breathing ragged. "Jak?"

"Hmm?" The green-blonde licked at the faint mark he had made.

"C-can we…?"

"Can we what? Can we, this?" Jak shifted to the side far enough to ease the friction burn between the fronts of their pants and casually trailed his knuckles over the hard, hot ridge of Daxter's trapped erection.

The redhead moaned through his teeth, obviously trying to be quiet, and nodded frantically. "Yeah, yeah, that!"

"No, I don't think so." And Jak rolled back on top.

Daxter gaped up at him, suddenly confused and nervous. "Huh? Why? Did I do somethin'—?"

"Shh, shh. It's all part of the make-out experience, Dax." Jak kissed him almost sweetly, laughing on the inside for the torment he was about to enact. "I think we should just keep doing this. This right here."

"But… but…" Daxter gave a halting whine, looking imploringly up at Jak.

"Yeah, just this. For another hour or so, at least. We're not even really necking yet."

Another, more desperate moan escaped Daxter as Jak laved the pulse point of his neck, grinding his hips firmly as he did so. The redhead panted and shook, bandy legs twitching on either side of Jak's thighs, hands kneading the back of his tee-shirt. "Jaaak…"

Slowly Jak leaned closer, until his lips barely brushed a flushed, trembling ear. "First one to come in their pants loses."

Daxter's stifled wail was lost in Jak's mouth as he went back to his "caring" instruction. It promised to be a long, painful, exquisite night.

- / - / - / - / -

Of course, whether Daxter liked it or not, the chaos of finals week crashed in like a tsunami and went by in a blur. Reviews were turned in. Cramming sessions were had. Energy drinks and junk food were consumed like sweet, life-sustaining manna.

And then it was all over. The last exam had been taken. Suddenly it was Friday afternoon, and three solid weeks of free time loomed ahead of him. Once again the campus of Haven U was up in arms as a mass exodus from the dorms occurred.

Free time couldn't begin just yet, though. First Daxter had to help Jak clean their room.

"I still don't see why Tattooed Wonder's gotta sign off on our room before you can go home," the redhead grumbled, swiping the mop across the floor. "It's none'a his damn business how messy it is in here. Which ain't very messy at all, might I add."

Jak chuckled as he shoved his desk back into place. He was in charge of manhandling the furniture around while Daxter mopped behind it. "I guess it's their way of making sure nobody's going to go home for break and leave something in their mini-fridge that might grow into a new ecosystem while they're gone. Pretty much everyone's leaving."

"Yeah, I noticed." Daxter laid his ears back.

Not having a family to go home to hadn't bothered him over the Thanksgiving recess, when Jak had stayed and their neighboring friends had been there to hang out with. But now that Jak was leaving, too… Three weeks seemed like an awfully long time. He already felt lonely.

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" Jak asked suddenly, as if he had read the redhead's mind.

Daxter shook himself out of the momentary slump. "Pfff. Whadda ya mean, will I be okay? What's not ta be okay about, fake jock? I don't need a babysitter. I'll be fine. I'll probably just work a bunch of extra shifts an' bug the crap out'a Taryn or somethin'."

He very carefully avoided mentioning just how much he was going to miss the green-blonde. They were roommates, sure. They were friends, sure. But it wasn't like they were _dating_ or anything, the sheer amount of time they'd spent attached at the lips over the past few days notwithstanding. He could survive without Jak and his smiles and his voice and his touches for a few measly weeks.

"Move the drawers, would ya? Torn's gonna be here soon an' we still gotta get yer weasel out'a here before he shows up."

Jak grinned. He had already dismantled Killer's cage and smuggled it down piecemeal to where his car waited in the parking garage, filled that morning with everything he was taking home. The room looked almost barren. "You know you'll miss Killer while we're gone." He grabbed the chest of drawers and pulled it away from the wall.

A cascade of fuzzy white balls tumbled out from behind it to roll across the floor tiles.

Daxter blinked dumbly. "… are those my socks?"

Jak unabashedly burst out laughing.

"They freakin' are! Those are my goddamn socks!" Daxter shrieked, throwing down the mop in his outrage. "Every freakin' pair of socks I've lost this semester—yer friggin' ferret's been stealin' my socks an' hidin' 'em behind the freakin' dresser!" He grabbed one of the sock balls and threw it at Jak's head.

Jak continued to laugh helplessly as it bounced off his ear. "Dax, I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

Phoenix chose that moment to stroll in, decked out in a heavy winter coat. "Alright then, where's the little fugitive from the law I'm supposed to smuggle out?" He glanced down at the pile on the floor. "That's a lot of socks, mate."

Daxter mopped mutinously behind the dresser as Jak pulled the ferret out from under the bunks, both neatly made for the impending inspection. _Friggin' ferret_.

"Here you go. Thanks for helping me out, Phoenix." Jak fondly handed his pet to his teammate. "Are you and Razer all packed up?"

"Packed and reporting to the Student Center hotel for check in as soon as Torn checks off on our room. I have to say, I'm quite looking forward to the change of scenery. It'll be the next best thing to being home." The ponytailed man scratched under Killer's chin, earning a pleased grumble.

"Wait a sec, you guys are stayin' at the hotel?" Daxter asked as he rung out the mop. "I thought that was just fer prospective students ta stay at while they're scopin' the campus. What gives?"

"It's a program set up for students who are here on visas," Phoenix explained. "It would cost more than most can afford to fly home for the holidays, and the dorms are all closing down, so the university puts us up in the Student Center gratis. Quite sporting of them, actually."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Daxter agreed, but a sudden sharp pang of unease lanced through him. "Whadda ya mean they're closin' the dorms, though? They won't really do that will they?"

The running back nodded. "So many people go home between semesters that it's just not worth the money for them to keep the dorms heated and staffed. That's why they turn off the power and lock up until January."

Daxter's ears and stomach sank like the Titanic; in record time into icy waters.

Jak looked up, face unreadable.

Phoenix glanced between them. A heavy silence descended. "… Daxter, where are you staying over break?" he asked, eyes narrowing as the truth finally dawned.

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit! This is bad! I didn't know they were gonna lock the dorms up! How can they do that? What about the people who don't have anywhere else ta go? This is like, literally my home right now! Where do they expect me ta live fer three weeks if they throw me out?!"

A loud knock echoed through the room in answer. "Okay, ladies, open up. I want to be on the road in an hour, so let's get this over with."

"Bugger!" Phoenix hissed. He ripped down the zipper of his coat and popped Killer inside, then zipped it up over the startled ferret. "You should really consider investing in a carrier. Meet you at your car, Jak." Then he opened the door and strolled out, calm as could be, with a smile and nod to their RA.

Torn offered a distracted nod in return, barely looking at the running back as he walked in and raised his clipboard. "Alright, let's make this as quick and painless as possible. Beds, dresser, wardrobes, mirror, desks, chairs…" He pointed at each piece of furniture with his pen as he listed them off. "Furniture accounted for and undamaged. Good." He opened the fridge, then the microwave that sat atop it. "Heat-n-keep is clean, empty, and unplugged. Excellent." He gave one last visual sweep of the room. "Walls unmarked, floor clean… you might want to pick up the sock collection, though. Other than that, it looks like you boys are ready to go."

"Go where?" Daxter muttered bitterly, grabbing double handfuls of sock balls.

Well, there went all the money he had managed to save for the semester, if all of it put together would even cover three whole weeks in a hotel. He didn't own a car he could sleep in. He was pretty sure health codes forbade people living, even temporarily, in the broom closet at Pizza Haven. Maybe Ximon had a couch he could crash on for a while if he helped pay December's utility bills—?

The redhead's own ratty duffle bag hit him in the chest, curtailing his franticly racing thoughts. Jak's hand was attached to it.

"Pack," the quarterback ordered in the voice he used when calling plays on the football field. "I'm calling my uncle. Be ready in ten minutes." He turned to the RA. "Thanks, Torn. Have a good break."

"Enjoy your vacation, Jak. See you in January." Then Torn was gone.

Jak ducked out of the room, already dialing.

Daxter was left in a daze, clutching his bag and wondering what had just happened.

_Oh boy, what should I take? Uh, pants, shirts, boxers… _He began to pull clothing from his wardrobe at random. _But where am I gonna sleep? Should I bring my blankets an' pillows? _One pillow made its way off the top bunk before he panicked again. _Damn it, where's my phone?! I can't forget the charger—! _Then he stopped cold, his haphazardly stuffed bag dropping to the rug with a thump.

"Oh shit! I gotta call Taryn!"

Pizza Haven's number was one of two on speed dial. Daxter groaned as he selected it. On the bright side, he might not need a place to stay after all, if Taryn killed him for missing three weeks of work on less than an hour's notice.

- / - / - / - / -

Fifteen minutes later, the occupants of room 317 bid their temporary home an even more temporary farewell. Firmly buckled into the passenger seat of Jak's car, Daxter felt exceptionally uprooted and unsettled. And also very stupid.

"Come on, Dax, cheer up. Taryn understands. She's not mad at you."

"Tch, sure she ain't. And her exact words weren't 'you idiot, what kind of college student doesn't know they close the dorms for the holidays?!' either." Daxter sank lower in his seat, vainly hoping the soft vinyl might swallow him whole. How did he ever manage to get himself into these messes?

Jak sighed and kept his eyes on the road. "For the record, I don't think this is your fault. I mean, come on. Every one of the flyers and notices posted in the hall and on the bulletin board in the lobby just said that today was the last day to move out. None of them explicitly said that moving out was _mandatory _this time. They didn't make us go home over Thanksgiving. How were you supposed to know they'd make us this time? This is totally on the administrators. They shouldn't take it for granted that every student is able to go somewhere else."

The redhead heaved a deep sigh and said nothing, hands fluttering over the ferret in his lap. Killer was engrossed with a new rawhide, specifically acquired for the purpose of keeping him occupied during the trip. It looked like Jak would be returning to his uncle's home with two freeloading strays this time.

Jak took one hand off the wheel to lightly punch his friend in the upper arm. "Hey. It's gonna be alright, okay? Uncle is totally cool with you staying with us."

"If I had five bucks fer every time somebody told me that after I got thrown in a car with a suitcase an' shipped off ta some family I never met before…"

"This is different," the quarterback said firmly. "This is _my_ family. They're gonna love you. And we're going to have a great time."

While Daxter had more than enough misgivings, he buttoned his yap. Any more moping and he would seem ungrateful that Jak and his uncle were giving him a free place to stay, and that was the last thing he wanted them to think. "If you say so, fake jock."

"I do say so." Jak's ears flipped up in a positive, moving-on sort of way. "Now, what do you want for dinner? Obviously we can't go in anywhere for ferret reasons—" he glanced down at Killer, who was still happily gnawing his rawhide, "—but I'm willing to hit up any drive through between here and home. What sounds good?"

Daxter shrugged. "I dunno. It's whatever. Burgers?"

"Oh, yeah. And onion rings. I'm—"

"Starving! I know, I know."

As it turned out, it wasn't a drive through that they eventually found off an obscure interstate exit when Jak stopped for gas a while later. It was a drive-in.

The experience was novel for the redhead. It also seemed to be a novel experience for Killer, who took up a perch on Jak's shoulder as soon as the window was rolled down and stared with fascination through the entire ordering process. The waitress who eventually brought their food out had an immediate cute-gasm over him.

Dax snagged a chicken nugget out of the box on the console between them and allowed himself a grin. Just sitting in the warm car with Jak as the idling engine purred, the hot air that blew across his sneakers circulating the aroma of deep-fried goodness around them, was luring him into a false sense of security. He could almost imagine they were just on a mini road trip with nothing awkward or uncomfortable waiting for him at the end of it.

"Y'know, Jak, fer a guy who ain't too keen on attention from the ladies, yer pet sure is a chick magnet."

"Ferrets are everybody magnets. And sock magnets. And food magnets." Jak tore a small chunk of beef off his burger and indulgently offered it to the furry muff across his shoulders. "Keira's probably going to try to steal him."

"Good. Maybe he'll steal her socks next time." Dax stole an onion ring. Maybe now would be a good time to bring up what he'd been thinking about for the last fifty miles or so. "Hey, Jak? About Keira…"

"Yeah?"

"Yer gonna want to… uh…" Oh, boy. This was kinda awkward. The redhead took a long slurp of his drink and tried again. It probably needed to be said. "Yer gonna wanna spend some alone time with her over the break, right? 'Cause you an' her fool around?"

Jak's eyes bugged behind the bite he was taking of his burger. His hands clenched on the bun so hard that ketchup and mustard shot out the back and splattered the steering wheel. "Oh my god," he sputtered, grabbing in the paper sack next to him for napkins. "I didn't even think about that!"

Daxter waved his hands placatingly. "It's okay, it's okay! No big deal. I just wanted ta say that I'm cool with it, y'know? Since she was the recipient of yer buddy benefits before me. Seniority an' all that."

He wasn't stupid enough to think that Jak should have to abstain from enjoying the company of someone he cared about—and who also had boobs, there was another good point—just because he'd been unlucky enough to get saddled with his roommate over break. The redhead harbored no illusions about where he ranked on that particular totem pole. But it was cool. He'd gone his whole life hitherto without fooling around with the quarterback, so three weeks of relinquishing Jak's attention to someone who had rightfully been there first would be no problem. It wouldn't kill him to lie on the couch and fake obliviousness about whatever Jak and his girl friend who wasn't a girlfriend were doing in the other room.

So why did the thought make his stomach clench unpleasantly? Daxter dropped the remainder of his fries back in the bag. Obviously he'd been eating too much junk food. Obviously.

Jak, meanwhile, had finished wiping the condiments off his steering column. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Dax. I mean, yeah, I didn't expect to be bringing you home with me and having you two in the same place at the same time, but I don't think Keira will mind if we fool around."

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because I told her we were fooling around."

"Oh. Well, that's—wait, what?! You _told_ her?" Daxter shrieked, wedging himself up against the door reflexively as if an offended, wrench-wielding fake girlfriend might pop up out of the back seat. "Why would you do that?!"

"Because she's my other best friend and deciding to experiment with gay sex with your roommate is kind of a big deal that you talk to your best friends about?"

Okay, so maybe it did make sense if Jak put it like that. Keira was probably trustworthy if Jak had known her so long and spoke so highly of her. Plus, Dax couldn't deny that he would have been tempted to tell his own best friend about the successful sex—if his own best friend hadn't already been the one he'd had the sex with.

"Yeah, well… fine. But you better be careful who ya tell about our little arrangement, y'know. I know we didn't really talk about keepin' it a secret, but I thought that kinda went without sayin'. Nobody wants ta think their college's quarterback is goin' gay, and personally, getting beat up for it doesn't sound like much fun."

Jak was quick to reassure. "Don't worry. No one but Keira will know, I promise. She won't say anything to anybody else." He offered the redhead an onion ring. "Come on, it's okay. Anybody picks on you for something as stupid as that and I'll break their nose. Figuring out which way you swing isn't a bad thing. We're not doing anything wrong."

Daxter took the offering and nibbled at it halfheartedly. "… you don't think I'm gay, do ya Jak?"

"Why would I think that?"

"Uh, well, let's see—I've touched yer dick, I've sucked yer dick, you've touched _my_ dick, I enjoyed all of the above, and let's not forget that my first and only legit kiss was with you, a guy. The case of my straightness is not lookin' too good."

The green-blonde rolled his eyes. "I don't think you're gay. I don't think you're anything at this point. People are allowed to not be sure, Dax. You're allowed to take your time and figure out whether or not you even have a preference. The first person you make out or fool around with doesn't dictate your entire sexuality for the rest of forever." He glanced at Daxter sidelong and smirked. "Buuut, if you really want to make sure that you like women as much as you think you will, I'm sure we can arrange another experiment."

Daxter stared blankly.

"Here, let me give Keira a call and tell her to pick up some condoms. I'm sure she'll think a threesome is a great idea."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Daxter screeched, lunging across the car as Jak pulled out his phone. "I swear ta god, fake jock, if you breathe just one word ta her I'll—!"

In the resulting tussle, Daxter kicked over his fries. Jak dropped his onion rings on the floor and the phone in his lap. Three separate hands grabbed the quarterback's crotch as they fought for possession. Killer took refuge in the back floorboard. He also took a chicken nugget.

Later, when they were back on the road with cold twilight falling across the endless fields and bare woods, Daxter relaxed into the seat and held the sleeping ferret close.

Maybe the coming weeks wouldn't be as bad as he feared. After all, Jak would be with him for the whole thing. And Jak had a knack for making things turn out right.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN:** As I have nothing of importance to say, I'll just give a rousing curse to the cold weather and move on.

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

It was fully dark by the time Jak announced that they were almost to his uncle's house.

"You sure yer not lost?" Daxter asked. "This is like the three-hundredth county road we've turned on in the last half hour."

"I grew up around here. I know exactly where we are," Jak assured. And did he ever. He had been counting the miles for the last twenty minutes. Road trips were fun and all, but the closer they came to their destination the more he wanted to arrive.

"This is an awful lot of trust yer askin' me ta put in you, y'know that? I'm completely lost. Hours away from everything I'm familiar with. How do I know yer not an axe murderer takin' me out in the boonies ta dispose of my body?"

Jak rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "If you can't tell whether or not I'm an axe murderer after sharing a room with me for three months, you might be a bad judge of character. Here we are—home sweet home." He felt a great sense of calm as his headlights bypassed the end of the Hagai's gravel driveway and illuminated a familiar mailbox. The long, paved drive they turned onto led to the only home he could remember. He hoped that Daxter would soon feel at home there, too.

"Sheesh, how big is this place?" Daxter asked uneasily, peering out into the gloom. "I thought you said you lived on a farm, not in a mansion."

"This is a farmhouse. A lot of those are pretty big anyway. Uncle just made a few… improvements," Jak allowed. His usual parking spot next to the garage was empty, so he reclaimed it without hesitation. "Uncle won't be home until tomorrow afternoon, if his plane lands on time. We'll have the place to ourselves while we get settled in. Come on, I can't wait to show you around!"

Daxter, with his solitary bag and backpack, had a much easier time unloading. He stood by the porch, one hand steadying the ferret on his shoulder, as Jak pulled his bags and all the pieces of Killer's cage out of the back seat. "You got a dog?" the redhead asked, ears drifting up at the barking from inside the otherwise dark, silent house. "I forgot you said you have a dog."

"Don't worry, he's super friendly." Jak shouldered one of his bags and grabbed the pile of ferret condo components. "Let's get inside and turn up the heat. I'll set Killer's cage up first. It'll keep him out of trouble while we get unpacked." He was already entertaining visions of hot showers, a roaring fire, and sleeping in his own bed for the first time in months. However, first thing was first.

The quarterback unlocked the door one-handed and stepped inside. The volume and pitch of the barking redoubled. He barely had time to find the light switch in the dark before the beast attacked. There was nothing for it but to retaliate. Jak dropped everything, dropped to his knees, and threw his arms around the barking, roiling mass of overly excited dog.

"Hey Croc! Did you miss me? Aww, yeah, you missed me, huh? I missed you too, boy." Jak laughed and turned his face prudently as his cheek and ear were decorated with slobbery kisses. It was good to be home.

Off to the side of the foyer, still safely ensconced on Daxter's shoulder, Killer was making his displeasure known with the full gauntlet of ferret insults.

The redhead glanced bemusedly down at him. "Somethin' tells me weasel-face doesn't approve of yer… what kind'a dog even is that?"

"Ten percent of each of the bully breeds, one hundred percent mutt," Jak said fondly, scratching under Croc's broad jaw. The short, squat dog wriggled in delight and promptly fell over for a belly rub.

It took the better part of five minutes, but eventually Jak was able to convince his dog to allow him enough use of his hands that he could bump up the thermostat and get on with assembling Killer's condo. Construction began in the den after a space was cleared on a low table by the window. While Jak worked, Daxter wandered around the large room, peering into the many shelves and curio cabinets that lined the walls.

"Jeez, yer uncle's got a lot'a stuff," the redhead muttered, transfixed by the case of ceremonial masks mounted above the fireplace.

Jak snapped the last plastic connector into place and hoisted the finished cage onto the table. "Yeah. He's been to every continent and more countries than I can remember. And he brings something back from every trip."

Daxter stared down a shimmering, plate-bronze mask with a long proboscis and round, empty eye holes. "Creepy."

"Wait until you see the shrunken heads."

"… I don't even wanna know."

With Killer safely situated inside his condo, Jak was able to fetch the rest of his luggage from the car. It hadn't escaped his notice that Daxter hadn't taken off his backpack or jacket. "Come on, Dax, my room's upstairs. Drop your stuff and stay a while," he teased.

The upstairs hallway was still cold. The green-blonde made a mental note to pull out the space heater as he pushed open the door at the end of the hall for Daxter and flipped on the light.

"Just drop your bags anywhere," Jak told him. "Normally I'd be a good host and give you the spare bedroom, but my dad's coming in sometime this week. Hope you don't mind sharing my room with me."

"Jak, I'm just plain offended that I'm gonna have to share a room that's twice the size of the one we've been sharin' fer three months," Daxter deadpanned. "Words can't describe my level of offended. I'm gonna file a formal complaint. I'm gonna smack yer face with a glove. I'm gonna—oh. My. God." He came to an abrupt halt and did a double take. "Is that a cowboy hat?"

The quarterback rolled his eyes heavenward as the hat was snatched off the bedpost. "Yes, it's a cowboy hat. And before you even ask, yes, I also have boots. They're in the closet. That's the standard uniform around here. I never would have made it through high school without at least one pair."

Daxter cackled evilly. "Oh, wow, this is too great. Here, here, put it on! I gotta see this!"

The hat was ceremoniously placed on Jak's head. His ears flicked as the edges of them touched the underside of the leather brim, a sensation they had almost forgotten. "Don't diss my hat. It was a present. Keira bought it for me Sophomore year when she figured out I could—" Wait, what was he even saying? There was no way the redhead would ever let him live it down if he finished that sentence. "Never mind. You want a snack? Something to drink? We could watch some TV if you want."

"No, no, hang on a sec. She bought it for you when she found out you could do what, now?" Daxter asked. His ears were pricked at high alert.

"It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Oh, no. No no no no. Come on, Jakkie-boy, you can't say somethin' like that an' then leave me hangin'. You gotta tell me now! What is it?"

Jak sighed deeply. It was come clean now, or have the daylights pestered out of him until he did. He knew how the redhead operated. "… sing," he muttered, pulling the brim of the hat down over his eyes.

Daxter blinked. "Say what?"

"She found out that I can sing," Jak said louder, feeling his ears heat slightly. Damn it. It had been embarrassing enough when only Keira knew. "But don't say anything to anybody else, okay? Especially not Phoenix."

"Sing," Daxter repeated, disbelief clear in his voice. "Seriously? No offense, Jak, but a quiet guy like you, sing? Kind'a hard ta wrap my brain around that."

Jak opened his mouth to reply. Closed it. Mentally debated with himself over what he was about to do. Adjusted his hat. Cleared his throat. And opened his mouth again. "_Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low_…"

- / - / - / - / -

"… _put some music on that's soft and slooow. Baby we ain't got no place to go. I hope you understand—_"

Daxter's eyes widened to their limit. His ears went up in total shock even as Jak's voice, normally deep, sank lower and lower until it became a nothing so much as a husky, rumbling purr that seemed to impact the redhead smack in the middle of his ribcage.

"_I've been thinkin' 'bout this all day long. Never felt a feeling quite this strong…_" Jak glanced up from under the hat that suddenly didn't look nearly so ridiculous, eyes wary as he waited for the teasing that was sure to come. It never did.

Daxter shut his mouth with a snap, suddenly aware that it had been hanging open. He swallowed hard, mouth dry, unable to take his eyes off his roommate's suddenly curious face. Okay. Wow. Jak could really… that was really very… country music was actually kind of… had the furnace suddenly kicked into overtime in there or was it just him?

Something in Jak's expression changed. A smile grabbed the corner of his mouth and turned it upward as he continued singing in that maddeningly low tone that made the hairs on Daxter's arms rise. "_I can't believe how much it turns me on, just to be your man—_"

As the quarterback took a step forward, Daxter took a reflexive step back. A shiver went up his spine at the realization that Jak's smirk was growing almost predatorily smug, but hot damn was it attractive. His back was against the wall before he fully registered it, his attention totally focused on the mesmerizing shapes Jak's mouth made as he sang.

"_There's no hurry, don't you worry; we can take our time. Come a little closer; let's go over, what I had in mind…_"

Jak's hand landed on the wall beside Daxter's head, palm flat against the cool surface. The redhead's breath hitched, his eyes drifting slowly shut and his lips parting in expectation as Jak leaned in, closer, closer…

The sound of a doorbell echoed through the empty house.

Daxter blinked stupidly. His nose was barely an inch from Jak's. "Uh. There's somebody at yer door."

The green-blonde's ears slanted in puzzlement. "Weird. I wonder who it is?" He drew away from Daxter, casually pulling off the cowboy hat and dropping it on the bedpost as he walked out.

Heart pounding, lungs pulling in the air they hadn't realized they'd been missing, Daxter pushed himself off the wall. _Okay, that is officially the weirdest boner I ever got. But I think I liked it. _He trailed after Jak, absently wondering how he could make the last three minutes happen again without sounding too eager to be serenaded by a fake jock turned fake cowboy.

The bell rang again as Daxter reached the bottom of the stairs. Croc was going crazy, barking and bounding around Jak as he walked to the door.

"I'm coming," the quarterback yelled as a third chime echoed through the house, nearly tripping over his dog in the scramble. "Croc, calm down! Sit. Stay."

Daxter stood on the last step, watching over the banister as his friend finally pulled the door open.

The girl who had been waiting on the porch pounced. "Jak!" she yelled, throwing her arms around Jak's neck and putting her entire weight behind it. Jak hoisted her with a startled "oof!" that turned into a laugh.

The redhead instinctively went still in his half-shadowed hiding spot. He silently observed, getting his first in-person look at the only girl whose affections he'd ever seen Jak not try to slink awkwardly away from. This had to be Keira.

"How long have you been home, you creep?" Keira laughed. "You were supposed to call me as soon as you got here and I only figured it out when I saw your bedroom light come on!"

Jak had completely picked her up off the ground by now. He supported her easily, her legs around his waist like a koala as they hugged. "I was getting to it," he protested, voice somewhat hampered by the chokehold on his neck. "Why didn't you just come in? You never ring the doorbell."

"It's my job to keep you on your toes." Then she let go of Jak, looked up, and spotted Daxter.

Two sets of wide blue eyes, one spooked and one surprised, met silently for half a beat.

Keira's ears flew up. "Oh, hey!" She crossed the foyer lightly on booted feet, bringing a draft of cold, winter-crisp air with her, and thrust out a hand with a grin. "You must be Daxter! Jak's told me so much about you—but he didn't tell me you were coming home with him, the jerk-face. I'm Keira."

Daxter swallowed. "Uh, yep. That's me. In his defense, I didn't know I was comin' with him either." He awkwardly returned the greeting handshake, wondering uneasily just how much about him she had been told. His hand was abruptly crushed in a vice clamp. "Oww, holy crap!"

Keira dropped his hand immediately and hid her own behind her back with a sheepish smile. "Sorry! Tightening engine components all day kind of gives you a firm grip, you know?"

Daxter decided then and there that he liked Keira.

- / - / - / - / -

"Ack! Jak, your ferret's in my bra!"

Daxter glanced down the sofa in amusement, holding his cup of cider warm in chilled hands. It seemed like Jak's prediction that Keira would love Killer had come to pass.

Jak had started a fire in the big fireplace in the den. The three of them had retreated there with popcorn and warm drinks, sprawling on the sofa as the dancing flames cast flickering shadows into dark nooks and crannies, firelight sparkling off half-hidden exotic treasures. Croc lay on the rug at Jak's feet, snoring gently.

"Well, pull the ferret out of your bra." Jak chuckled around a drink of his cider and relaxed into the cushions. "He probably likes the lotion you're wearing. He's madly in love with my coach's aftershave. Or maybe it's just my coach."

Keira tapped the extracted ferret on his twitching nose before letting him go to scale the back of the sofa. "Yeah, well, lotion or no lotion, watch where that little nose is going. That's personal space and I don't date animals." Suddenly her ears popped up. "Oh! Speaking of, I've got big news, Jak."

"Oh, yeah?"

Keira puffed herself up in her sweater and smiled happily. "I officially have a girlfriend!"

Daxter's mouth fell open.

Jak stared blankly for a moment, then returned the grin. "Oh my god, you actually hooked up with Tess."

"Yep! I asked her out and she said yes!"

"That's great, Keira." The two shared a fist bump of congratulations. "When did this happen?"

"… yesterday."

Jak slowly lowered his mug. "You asked her out the day before you both went home for a three week break?"

"Jeez, yer sense of timing sucks," Daxter said before his brain, which had drifted into and become mired in lesbian waters, could reign in his mouth.

"Oh, shut it." Keira leaned over Jak to whap at the redhead with a throw pillow. "I didn't mean for it to happen that way, it just—happened." She shrugged philosophically. "You know how it goes. One minute you're sitting in the car in the mall parking lot drinking lattes, the next minute you're making out to Rhianna. It felt like the right time."

Daxter swapped a skeptical look with Jak. He wasn't quite sure he really knew how that went. But then again, he'd had to get shitfaced on fowl-flavored vodka to get whatever it was he and Jak were doing going, so what did he know.

"Well, congratulations anyway," Jak said, propping his feet on the edge of the coffee table in front of the sofa. "I'm sure you'll pick up right where you left off when the break ends."

"Yeah. We're going to hold hands, and go on dates, and shop for cute underwear together." Keira fluttered her eyelashes sarcastically and reached for the popcorn bowl. "You're right, though. I did have really bad timing. Not that I regret asking her when I did, because I don't, but…"

"Now you gotta wait?" Daxter supplied helpfully. "An' now that yer taken you can't even use the break ta have one last hurrah with yer high school hunk?"

"No!" she yelled, throwing a handful of popcorn that mostly missed Daxter and hit Jak full in the face. "I would not even, thank you very much. I may be a lot of non-traditional things, but I am definitely not the kind of girl who fools around with a committed man. Especially not when his boyfriend is staying in the same house."

Daxter's ears flattened in surprise. "Boyfriend? Y'mean… me?" Oh, shit. That wasn't what he and Jak were, right? Hadn't Jak told her that? Surely the quarterback would have let him know by now if there was something more to their arrangement than—

"We're not 'boyfriends,' Keira," Jak said with a half smile and a roll of his eyes. "I told you, we're just… experimenting."

Daxter nodded emphatically in agreement. "Yeah, what he said." He firmly tried to ignore the small part of him that was hurt by Jak's immediate denial. "Experimenting, tryin' stuff out—like lab partners!" Why be hurt by that? Nothing negative in telling the truth.

"Experimenting. Right." Keira did not look convinced. "And how long exactly have you guys been 'experimenting,' again?" The air quotes were obvious without her having to lift a finger.

"About three weeks, I guess," Jak said slowly. "Why?"

"How many bases have you gotten to in those three weeks?" the mechanic asked, arms crossed over her chest. "I ask this as your BFFF. Best female friend forever," she clarified at Daxter's lost look.

Jak cleared his throat uncomfortably and glanced at Daxter sidelong.

The redhead, ears burning, shrugged helplessly. "… three fourths of 'em…?"

"Okay, and those three fourths haven't given you the faintest idea of whether or not you might like guys? Just how long are you going to keep 'experimenting' before you're sure?" She received no answer. "Uh-huh. Thought so. And you never do _anything_ romantic? You never make out just because, or cuddle, or sleep in the same bed for no reason, or—"

Daxter found something very interesting to focus on in the corner. Jak looked at the ceiling. The fire popped loudly.

"Totally boyfriends," Keira muttered to Killer as he slithered by on the back of the sofa.

Jak stood abruptly with a flurry of displaced popcorn. "Oh-kay, it's getting late. Time for Keira to go home and go beddy-bye." He grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her off the couch.

Croc raised his head off his paws in interest as he was stepped over, then discovered the popcorn and began to chomp enthusiastically.

"Unhand me at once, you brute!" Keira yelled, more than obviously used to such avoidance tactics as she was unceremoniously put over the quarterback's shoulder and carried toward the foyer.

Daxter stared from the couch in the den. _Are these two fer real? They act more like they're related than they act like they're bangin'._

"I try to give you heartfelt relationship advice and this is the thanks I get? Don't come crying to me when you wake up one morning and start writing each other sonnets to declare your undying love!" Keira's words trailed off as she was carried around the corner.

"Good _night_, Keira," Jak said loudly.

"Night, Jak," she said cheerfully. "See you tomorrow. I'll come over for breakfast, so make waffles. Bye, Daxter!" she yelled. Then the door opened, closed, and silence reclaimed the big house.

When Jak returned to the den he was shaking his head, but there was a smile lurking suspiciously in the vicinity of his goatee.

Daxter grinned weakly. "Well, that was… fun."

"That was Keira, in a nutshell. Good news, she's already accepted you into the tribe." The green-blonde dropped back onto the sofa. When there was no response, he nudged the redhead with his knee. "Hey, don't let her bug you. She doesn't mean anything by it. She's just super excited right now and wants to share the joys of dating."

"Oh, yeah, I figured," Daxter agreed quickly. "Girls, always goin' off about romance. What can ya do?" Romance. Ha. Who needed it? Who wanted to be somebody's favorite person and have sex because you were in love and know that somebody was never going to leave you? Totally not _him_.

Jak stretched. "I think I'm going to go get some sleep. When Keira says she's coming over for breakfast, she means before nine."

"What, is she nuts?"

"No, just a morning person." Jak pushed himself off the couch. "You coming? You can stay down here and watch TV or something if you want."

Though the offer was tempting—a large screen that he wouldn't have to battle everyone else in the dorm lounge for control of—Daxter decided against it. Upstairs with Jak was better than downstairs alone with all the creepy knickknacks. "Nah, I'm good. Right behind ya, Jakkie-boy."

And he was, literally, just a moment later, when a shattering crash split the quiet. Daxter scrambled behind the quarterback with a yelp, ears back and eyes wide. Croc leapt to his feet and circled, barking at the tops of his lungs as he searched for the cause of the noise.

A streak of brown and cream zipped away from the remains of a vase that had been resting innocently on a low shelf.

Jak narrowed his eyes. "Memo to me: This house isn't ferret-proof yet."

Daxter heaved a sigh of relief, chuckled nervously, and loosened the death grip on the back of Jak's shirt.

- / - / - / - / -

"If there's ever an earthquake, yer gonna be dead before ya even know what hit ya. Crushed ta death by fallin' trophies. Sad way ta go."

"There's only one shelf," Jak soothed, pulling the shirt he held over his head with a chuckle.

"Yeah, well, it's a freakin' huge shelf. There's another concussion, at least."

The quarterback glanced over at his bed. Daxter had parked himself on the far side of the queen mattress, back against the headboard, hands propped behind his head. He kept staring around Jak's room, obviously soaking everything in from the shelf that housed the trophies, to the high school pennants on the walls, to the fishing pole propped in the corner next to the snowboard.

"If I die crushed by the falling memorabilia of my success, you can have the rest of my stuff," Jak offered. "Except my video games. Keira wants those." Ready for bed, he flipped off the overhead light. The glow of a string of white lights tacked up over the closet doors took over the task of illuminating the dark, sending a warm golden glow to chase the shadows.

Daxter slid under the covers with a sigh and Jak followed suit, trying not to notice how the size of the bed made the redhead look even smaller than usual. He was so used to Daxter being smashed up beside him in the tiny dorm bunk that in the normal sized bed he seemed entirely too far away. Well, there was only one way to remedy that. Jak slid closer and tucked an arm around his friend's waist under the blanket.

Daxter glanced back over his shoulder and gave the green-blonde a wary look. It was obvious that he still wasn't comfortable. He probably wouldn't be for a couple of days, at least, until the rush of the unexpected move started to wear off.

Jak smiled reassuringly. "It's still chilly up here."

Daxter didn't do "new" well. And Jak wasn't going to push him to fool around in a new place when he had only just recently begun to feel comfortable with fooling around in the dorm room they'd already been sharing for months. Even if the thought of having his roommate all to himself in the bigger bed with no one around to hear any desperate moans or whimpers was tantalizingly tempting.

Without his conscious permission, Jak's nose found its way into Daxter's hair. It was comfortable, so he didn't see the need to move. "Goodnight, Dax. Tomorrow we'll find something fun to do."

"Whatever you say, Jakkie-boy. G'night." Slowly Daxter relaxed under Jak's arm. A few minutes of quiet breathing in the dark and he wriggled back unobtrusively to mold himself against Jak, soaking up the quarterback's heat.

Jak hugged a little tighter in response.

And if there happened to be any unnecessary cuddling going on, neither of them deigned to comment on it.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.

Outtakes!

/

Daxter: I legit can't believe you own a cowboy hat. I'm almost rendered speechless.

Jak: Don't make fun. Want to hear me sing something fitting?

Daxter: Let's not and say we didn't. I don't do country songs.

Jak: Oh, come on. Give it a chance. Here, I'll sing my favorite—"Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy!"

Daxter: …. somehow I sense an ulterior motive behind this exhibition.

/

Keira: It's so good to meet you, Daxter!

Daxter: Yeah, it's good to meet you too! You're not as scary as I thought you'd be.

Jak: This is great. I'm so glad you two are getting along.

Keira: Of course! I know anybody you'd pick for our first threesome has to be cool.

Daxter: *quietly hyperventilates*

Jak: I was kind of hoping to ease onto that topic over a period of a few days, Keirs.

Keira: Well then you should have SAID so! And you're still paying me for these condoms I picked up, they're the expensive brand.

/

Jak: So you have a girlfriend now, huh?

Keira: Yeah, isn't it great?

Jak: I'm really happy for you! …is she hot?

Keira: Do people in hell want ice water?

Jak: *whistles* Wow. You two gotta send us some Girls Gone Wild footage over spring break.

Keiar: I dunno, Jak. We gonna get some Guys Gone Wild in return?

Jak: Deal! (shakes on it)

Keira: (shakes) Ooooh, make sure you wear the cowboy hat.

Daxter: …what just happened here?

/

Keira: So, Daxter. In all seriousness. I'm putting my number in your phone, okay?

Daxter: Uh, okay. Not that I'm not totally warm and fuzzy over this gesture of friendliness and welcome, but why?

Keira: So you can call me if Jak ever starts slacking between the sheets, duh.

Daxter: Say what now?

Keira: I taught him everything he knows about pleasuring a partner! It's a matter of personal pride that the fake jock delivers. If you find he's not meeting your needs, you give me a ring-a-ding, alright?

Daxter: Wow, thanks!

Jak: You are not my pimp Keira!

Keira: Shoosh, Jak. Only superior sexual standards now.

/


	22. Chapter 22

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

Daxter loitered in bed on the first morning of winter break.

He woke pressed up against Jak. Force of habit and the need to seek heat kept him there even with plenty of room to spread out in the quarterback's bed. Jak slept on behind him, one arm thrown around his smaller bedmate's waist. His soft, even breaths brushed the back of Daxter's ear with their warmth.

The redhead couldn't suppress a smile. He wriggled lower in the blankets and Jak's hold until the comforter completely covered the top of his head. Content inside his warm cocoon, he was more than happy to stay right where he was until Jak woke up.

_Man, I totally do not miss the days of panickin' when I woke up next ta this lug, _he thought in sleepy amusement. Panicking was so overrated, especially first thing in the morning.

The bedroom door creaked gently.

Daxter's ear twitched under the blanket. _Didn't Jak shut that last night…? _He listened, but the sound didn't come again. _Huh. Must'a been the dog. I'll get used ta the dog sooner or later, I guess—_

Bedsprings shrieked as the world degenerated to chaos around him.

Daxter reflexively gripped the comforter as he felt himself falling off the bed. He hit the floor with a muffled thump and a yelp that was largely drowned out by Jak's incoherent bellows from above. Squirming and flailing under the tangle of blankets, Daxter was finally able to pull them off and look up.

He wasn't sure what he had expected to see, but Jak's dad had not been it. And the man in question, who happened to have the quarterback caught securely in a professional-looking headlock and was giving him the noogie of the century, was definitely Jak's father. The same face Daxter remembered from the family portrait Jak had once shown him suddenly caught sight of him and stared back in surprise. Older, more careworn, but indisputably the same man.

The redhead swallowed hard, ears falling to meet the blanket draped around his shoulders. "Uh… hi?"

Amused perplexity slowly overtook the shock on the other man's face. "Hello, yourself. And who might you be?"

"He's my roommate, you inconsiderate asshole!" Jak roared, head still trapped under an arm so muscled it looked as though it could subdue bears.

Recognition dawned. "Ah, so you're Daxter." One huge hand released Jak to extend in greeting. "I'm Damas."

Daxter shook the proffered hand politely from his spot on the floor. For all Damas looked like he could crush cars like the Incredible Hulk, his grip was surprisingly gentle. Gentler than Keira's had been the night before. "Yeah, that's me. Nice ta meet ya."

Throughout their exchange of morning pleasantries Jak struggled in the one-armed grip, feet braced against the headboard for leverage as he fought to get loose. The arm that held him didn't budge. "Okay, you can let go now!"

Daxter bit his lip against the snickers that threatened.

Completely ignoring his son, Damas kept his attention on the redhead. "Sorry for the rude awakening, Daxter. I didn't realize Jak had company. I promise my next ambush won't include civilian casualties." Finally, he deigned to release his hold.

Jak was set free. He struggled upright with a muffled curse, hair tangled and cheeks red, more ruffled than Daxter had ever seen him off the gridiron.

Damas slapped him on the back. "You know I'm very proud of your football skills, Jak. I'm just awfully glad you didn't have your heart set on becoming a wrestler instead."

This time Daxter couldn't hold back the peal of laughter.

Jak glared, ears laid back to their extreme. "Gee, Dad, thanks. I missed you, too. So nice to see you after months of nothing but phone calls and video chats. Now leave."

"Now, now, son. Mind your manners." Damas chuckled indulgently and stood up with a stretch, the bed frame creaking as he did. "Speaking of manners, though—why didn't you tell me your roommate was going to be visiting? And why didn't you offer him the guest room?"

"We didn't know until yesterday!" the green-blonde protested indignantly. "And I didn't offer him the guest room because I knew _you_ were coming and _you_ use the guest room."

Daxter experienced a sudden flare of unease. Jak had said that Damas was military. Did that translate to hyper-masculine? Was he going to think that his son sharing a bed with another guy wasn't acceptable, even if (for a change) they had only been sleeping? Sure Jak was over eighteen and could technically do whatever he wanted, but starting an interfamily feud was something the redhead wanted no part of.

"I can sleep on the couch," he said quickly. "Or the floor. It's no big deal, I don't mind."

Damas flicked his ears dismissively. "Wherever you're comfortable, son. Just making sure you feel welcome. And that you can actually sleep next to Jak. Sharing a bed with him can be less than a walk in the park. Believe me, I know."

"Accidentally kick someone out of bed at one hotel during one family vacation one time and they never let you forget it," Jak grumbled. He swung his legs out of bed. "So, when did you get in?"

"Just a while ago. It was worth it to drive through the night."

Daxter glanced at the clock on Jak's beside table. It blinked a cheerful 7:56 AM.

"Well, men, the day's wasting," Damas announced. "Rise and shine, get dressed, and report to the kitchen for debriefing."

Jak looked less than amused.

"I also made coffee?"

Coffee, as it turned out, was an acceptable motivator.

Damas retreated to the downstairs, leaving Jak and Daxter to straighten the mangled bedclothes and stagger into clothes of their own.

"Sorry about that," Jak muttered as he pulled a shirt out of the closet. "Me and Dad like to mess with each other. I seriously don't think he had any idea you were there or he wouldn't have done that."

"S'cool. He was just havin' fun." The redhead searched for his socks, finding them a moment later with a surge of triumph. There were perks to keeping the thieving weasel sequestered in another room. "Yer dad seems pretty chill for a military dude. I didn't expect that."

The quarterback chuckled. "Apparently he used to be a real terror back in the day. But yeah, he's a lot more Zen about things now. That's why he voluntarily stopped rising in the ranks when he hit Master Sergeant—any higher and the bureaucracy would make him go Rambo."

"Rambo, or Hulk? He's as big as yer coach!" Daxter glanced at his friend slyly, seriously lacking the willpower to resist making a crack. "So, I gotta ask. What the heck happened with the genetics there, sweet petite?"

Jak gaped indignantly. "Says the guy I could bench press!"

When all Daxter did was laugh, the green-blonde gave him a shove. A small one. It was instantly returned, and the light in Jak's eyes as he backed the snickering redhead toward the bed said that tickle tackles were imminent… before the bang of a kitchen cabinet slamming echoed up from downstairs.

Jak sighed. "I guess we better get down there and help Dad find something to eat. Uncle's been gone a couple weeks, so he probably didn't leave any food in the house that isn't frozen or freeze-dried."

"Oooh. I call dibs on the reconstituted mashed potatoes."

As he trailed Jak down the stairs, Daxter tried to be practical. Of course they couldn't roughhouse whenever they felt like it when Jak's dad, and soon to be his uncle, too, was in the house. Their roughhousing turned to making out more often than not these days, and they couldn't afford to act too suspicious. That didn't mean he couldn't pout a little at not being able to plant a good morning hickey on his attractively tousled roommate, though.

_Maybe keepin' my hands ta myself's gonna be harder than I figured, _he thought uneasily. What a difference a good night's sleep and waking up feeling a hundred times more secure than he had the day before could make to the libido.

The smell of warm coffee greeted them when they reached the kitchen. So did Keira's happy morning chatter.

"…and next semester I finally get to take my first high performance class! I can't wait to work on some real racing engines. Not that I don't have a pretty good grasp of those already, but if I have to change one more set of brakes for one more ungrateful staff member I'm gonna go nuts!"

From the table where he was working through a mug of coffee, Damas chuckled. "Are you still planning on opening your own shop when you graduate?"

"Absolutely." Keira pulled a carton of eggs out of the bag she held, adding to the growing pile of groceries on the counter where milk, oranges, and bacon had already accumulated. "I've been dreaming about the Hagai High Performance Machine and Body Shop since eighth grade and now the only thing standing between me and it is a major in automotive tech and a minor in business management. How hard can it be?" Bag empty, she looked up and caught sight of the boys. "There you are. I'll make the eggs if you make the waffles, Jak. And we need to go to the store later. I raided the fridge for this milk and Daddy hasn't noticed yet."

"Living on the edge as usual, aren't we?" Jak deadpanned, pulling a waffle iron out of a cupboard. "Mugs are in the cabinet above the coffee maker, Dax," he said over his shoulder. "Make yourself at home."

Daxter did. He filled a mug, added the requisite overflow of creamer, and prudently got out of the way. A moment later he found himself occupying the chair across from Damas.

As usual, when confronted with someone new and slightly unnerving, he went with the approach that tested the situation by poking it with a stick: he struck up a conversation. "Sheesh, talk about service! I should crash here on short notice more often if breakfasts are always this good."

"Indeed." Damas smiled, folding the newspaper he had begun to leaf through. "So, Daxter, what area of study are you majoring in?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. Any answer he gave after hearing Keira's long-term goals wasn't going to be impressive. "Meh, not quite sure yet. I'm not good at much."

"Everyone's good at something, son."

"Well, let's see; I'm good at running my mouth, running my mental mouth on paper, and running in general, usually away from scary things that want to injure me," he said, ticking each off on his fingers. "And my boss says I'm learnin' how ta make a mean Stromboli. So right now, my big goal is just ta survive Freshman year."

"Of course. One step at a time," Damas agreed seriously. His rather unique moustache, however, was framing a small smile.

"So, what about you, yer Master Sergeantlyness?" Daxter laced his fingers together and propped his chin on them, smiling coyly. "What're your plans fer the future?" Somehow it felt alright to joke with the older man a little. Damas seemed to exude an aura of calm acceptance that put the normally jittery redhead more at ease the longer they talked.

Damas rolled his mug in his hands. "My plans? My plans. Hmm. Well, to tell the truth…" He seemed to consider for a moment. "I suppose there's no harm in sharing it now. At the moment, my plans involve making preparations to retire from active duty."

Jak looked up from the waffle mix he was stirring, eyes wide. "Whoa, seriously?"

Keira looked like she had been told the sky was no longer blue when Damas nodded. "Wow. I can't believe it. You've been in the service since…"

"Since before you two were born. And I'm getting entirely too old for active duty."

"You're not even fifty, Dad," Jak pointed out. He deftly plated a waffle and set it in front of Damas.

"That's why I'd like to get out now before age has a chance to catch up with me. Mmm, that looks good. Just keep those coming, if you would." Damas filled every waffle pocket with butter and syrup, his precision surgical. "I'd like to get a civilian contract. See if I can't do some good in veterans' services. Then I can get a permanent post and stop hopping all over the country. Do things like take a weekend off to see my son graduate without having to request leave months in advance that I can't even guarantee will be approved."

"Don't worry, Dad. I'm sure you can get any position you want." Jak's ears went up hopefully. "Do you think you'll be out by this summer? Could we go on vacation?"

His father nodded. "I'd like that. My goal is to be out by the Fourth. I may take the whole summer off if I can get away with it."

Jak grinned. "That would be so cool."

Daxter smiled too, despite himself. He had known Damas for less than an hour, but the older man seemed pretty okay. This new development made Damas happy. And even more importantly, it made Jak happy. Happy best friend was definitely a good thing.

Breakfast was ready soon enough, and demolished just as quickly by four hungry mouths.

Daxter sighed contentedly as he carried his dishes to the sink. A delicious breakfast he didn't have to wait in line for and no class to rush off to. Breaks were awesome. He flipped on the water tap and glanced up, out the window over the sink.

"Whoa! Hey, Jak, look—it's snowin'!"

"Really?" Jak appeared at his side, peering out with him. "Wow, it's coming down pretty hard."

"Supposedly we could get up to eight inches," Damas said from the table. "That's what made me decide to drive straight through."

"That's great!" Keira said happily. "I was hoping we'd get a chance to take the snowmobiles out over break. I didn't soup them up so they could sit in the barn all winter."

Daxter shook his head. "Snowmobiles? Seriously?"

"Well, sure. It's flat as a pancake out here. The fields are perfect for it. Besides, all the farmers know us."

"Best. Christmas. Break. Ever!" Daxter grinned, turning back to the sink. Huge, round eyes stared unblinkingly back at him through the window. "Holy shit!" he squawked, fumbling a plate in his haste to get away. "Jak, am I goin' absolutely crazy here or is there a giant bird lookin' in yer kitchen window?!"

Jak looked up from clearing the table, butter bowl in one hand and syrup bottle in the other, and scoffed. "Of course you're not crazy. That's an ostrich."

Warily, Dax sized up the bird blinking at him through the glass. "… and, this is normal ta you, isn't it. Why am I not surprised by this?"

Keira snickered. "Don't worry, Daxter. That's just Flut-Flut. He belongs to Mrs. Perch from down the road. She kind of has a thing for birds. All kinds of birds." The poultry in question leaned forward and pecked gently at the windowpane. "Aww, look. He likes you."

"Open the window, Dax," Jak said.

Very slowly and gingerly, the redhead unlocked the window and slid it open. Flut-Flut's head shoved inside immediately. Daxter prudently ducked. "Hey, watch it!"

Jak made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Here you go, Flut-Flut. Here, boy." He grabbed a cold waffle off the plate of remainders and threw it across the kitchen like a gluten-filled Frisbee.

The ostrich's bony head shot forward like a spring-loaded booby trap, snagging the waffle out of the air. It was gone in two quick swallows.

"Don't feed the ostrich from the table, son." Damas casually turned a page of his newspaper, eyes never leaving the fine print.

Daxter stared, awestruck.

"I guess I should probably take him back to Mrs. Perch," Jak decided. He put the butter and syrup in the fridge and shut the door resolutely. "If we're going to get that much snow, he should be in the barn."

"Are you kidding? Of course she put him in the barn. He's just an escape artist." Keira put her dishes in the sink next to Daxter's and gently shoved the ostrich's head back out the window. "Hey, why don't we go with you to take him home? We can show Daxter around."

"Sounds good. You want to come, Dad?" Jak asked.

"No, you kids have fun. I think I'm going to get a nap in before your uncle gets home. I'm sure we'll all be hearing about Belize in excruciating detail before the night's over."

And that was how Daxter found himself gearing up for ostrich wrangling, pulling on his jacket at the hall closet with Jak while Keira grabbed her outerwear from the foyer.

Jak eyed the jacket with a frown. "Let me find something a little heavier for you to wear. We'll be out there for a while." Before the redhead could protest, he was digging deeper into the closet. "Kimono… toga… good god, Uncle, why do you even own a grass skirt… okay, here we go. Try this."

The coat he placed in Daxter's hands was thick and downy. The bright blue fabric turned to cream and brown leather at the wrists and waist. An embroidered breast patch read _Sentinel High Athletic Department._

The redhead's eyes narrowed. "This feels expensive."

"It was my high school winter athletics coat," Jak said, rolling his eyes. "I got it sophomore year when I joined the football team, but by junior year my shoulders were so wide I couldn't wear it anymore. Try it on."

Daxter slid it on. The weight of the thickly insulated coat was warm and heavy on his shoulders. "S'pretty nice," he admitted, sneaking a peek at himself in the hallway mirror.

"It looks good on you. Not everybody can pull off the Sentinel Sharks look." Jak's hands came up automatically to turn down the collar, then stilled on Daxter's shoulders. "… I think you should keep it."

His stomach did the signature dance move it seemed to bust out whenever Jak did something particularly awesome. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'd rather you have it than it hang in the closet with Uncle's questionable souvenir ethnic apparel forever."

Daxter smoothed his hands down the zipper, cheeks and ears warming. "Thanks, big guy." He chanced a quick glance up through his lashes.

Jak glanced down.

Their eyes met.

The quarterback gave an awkward half shrug. His smile was almost shy.

On a sudden impulse, Daxter moved a quick step closer. Damas was still in the kitchen. Keira was still in the foyer. Surely one quick hug of thanks wouldn't hurt anything? He went up on tiptoe, leaning toward Jak—

A giggle from down the hall made both their heads jerk up in unison.

"Boyfrieeeeends," Keira whispered loudly, gloved hands cupped around her mouth. "So adorable."

Daxter stumbled backwards, pulling the collar of his new coat back up, but couldn't quite cover the now very obvious blush raging over his face.

Jak angled his ears back with a scowl and cleared his throat pointedly. "Alright, let's go put birdie in the barn. Got the leash?"

"Right here," she said, holding up a well-worn leash and collar.

"… that's not fer the dog, is it," Daxter guessed.

Croc wagged up at him, panting happily in anticipation of the imminent adventure.

Keira shrugged as they stepped out into the falling snow. "Flut-Flut thinks he's a dog anyway. It all works out."

Daxter rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Jak, I'm frankly astounded you don't have a lasso with that overgrown turkey's name on it. It's scary how easily I can imagine you ridin' that thing."

"I did ride him when I was younger," the quarterback said brightly, accepting the leash from Keira as the ostrich pranced around the side of the house. "I don't think the ER techs ever really believed me when I told them I broke my arm falling off the neighbor lady's pet ostrich. Coming from an eleven-year-old I guess that would be pretty unbelievable, though."

"Everything about you is unbelievable," Daxter grinned. Then he was pointing frantically as Flut-Flut began to head for the edge of the yard. "Hey, hey, the giant drumsticks are makin' a break for it!"

They began to pick their way slowly toward the ostrich, who was giving them the obvious side-eye and sidling further away the closer they came.

"Speaking of drumsticks, Jak—you're inviting Daddy and me to Christmas Eve dinner, right?" Keira asked.

"Yeah, just like every year. Why?"

"Because you owe me. You didn't come home for Thanksgiving and I had to eat vegan tofurkey with my dad. Do you know what vegan tofurkey tastes like? No, you don't, because your legal guardian is a normal person who eats normal human food."

Jak snickered. "Maybe we can get a turducken and make up for your meat deficiency. That's festive, right?"

Daxter snorted before he could stop himself. "Oh, yeah, definitely. 'Cause nothin' says 'happy holidays!' like stuffing one dead bird up another dead bird's ass."

At Jak and Keira's sudden burst of laughter, Flut-Flut took off at a dead run.

"Fan out!" Jak yelled, leaping into motion. "Dax, go left; Keira, go right! Chase him toward the barn."

A second later, three teens and a wildly barking dog were sprinting after a wayward ostrich, the gathering snow muffling their pounding footfalls on the hard ground. Whooping with laughter, Daxter fell into formation alongside his friends. For one shining moment, it seemed as if his place had always been there.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **This chapter is edited for content. The uncensored version can be found on .

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

/ - / - / - / - /

The first week of Christmas vacation whistled by like winter wind. Daxter found himself adapting to life in the country with alarming speed.

Before his first full day on the farm was through, Jak and Keira had introduced the redhead to all their close neighbors, plus their neighbors' livestock. He had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Perch, the eccentric widow who owned Flut-Flut the ostrich, along with a menagerie of other fowl, both domestic and exotic. He also met Farmer Zeb, an elderly cattle farmer who always looked on the verge of falling asleep. Zeb's cattle, a specialized hybrid stock of Texas longhorn and Tibetan yak, were a sight to behold. According to Jak no fence could hold the yak-cows when they were feeling contrary, and he had spent many afternoons corralling them for a modest fee.

Daxter met Keira's father Samos, a short, grumpy naturalist with a fashion sense erring closely on the side of "tree hugger." He had a greenhouse on the back of his property that rivaled the size of the house he and Keira lived in, filled with exotic breeds of orchid and herb, a world's worth of seedlings brought back from the far reaches of the globe by Uncle's travels. To Keira's mortification, within minutes of shaking hands he had made a scathing comment about Daxter's front teeth. Daxter delightedly fired back with a shot at the old man's wooden shoes. It promised to be a glorious enemy-ship.

And then there was Jak's uncle himself.

Sir Frederick Humbert Mallory-Talbot IV had returned from the airport the same day Damas had arrived, as predicted. And, as Damas had also predicted, before the evening was done the entire group had been corralled into the den like farmer Zeb's yak-cows for a PowerPoint presentation of photos and random informational factoids about Belize. It had been compiled on his return flight and was accompanied by an oral lecture from the old adventurer himself.

That had gone as well as could be expected for the first hour, before the wall-sized projector screen suddenly filled with the forty-seventh slide; a close up of a truly massive tarantula. Jak had overturned the coffee table during his exit from the room. Daxter and Keira had laughed until they cried. Uncle Freddie had not been pleased.

(_"Daxter, dear boy, as a friend of Jak's, you are welcome here—but I must insist you never refer to me as 'Uncle Freddie' ever, ever again."_)

Days passed. Then a week. There were snowball wars that Damas always seemed to win even when the three coeds teamed up against him. There were long excursions far afield on Keira's snowmobiles, the redhead clinging tight to Jak's waist. There were trips to town to shop for Christmas presents and food to keep the suddenly full house up and running.

Then, all at once, it was Christmas Eve.

The dinner that Jak had promised and Daxter had half dreaded went without a hitch. It came as a very pleasant surprise to the redhead how much he actually enjoyed it. There was no awkward dressing up, though Uncle did insist they use the fancy china and silverware that was actually silver. There was no thinly veiled scrutiny from extended family members he had never met before and would never see again. No nearly accusing remarks of how he must be so thankful to have somewhere nice to spend the holidays.

Instead there was only a constant flow of happy conversation interspersed with occasional sass from Samos or an inappropriate comment about the turducken that Jak had made it a personal mission to get a hold of once the idea had taken hold.

"Look at Killer and Croc!" Keira laughed when nearly everything on the table had been eaten. "They're so full they can't even pester each other anymore."

Dog and ferret lay nose to nose on the hearth rug, so stuffed with bird that an apparent truce had been called until digestion was done.

"I think I know how they feel," Damas grumbled. "I'm not going to be able to fit back into my uniform pants next week."

"Shall we have a little wine with dessert?" Uncle asked. The question was redundant; he was already rummaging in the liquor cabinet that took up half the back wall of the formal dining room. "Let's see, something to compliment your lovely cake…"

Damas eyed the two-tiered monstrosity that had taken the turducken's place of honor in the middle of the table. Coated with chocolate fudge frosting, marshmallows, and cordial cherries, the cake boasted a tuft of holly and a liberal stabbing of candy canes. "That actually doesn't look too terrible. You did alright, for three kids who have no idea how to bake."

"Hey, we can read directions just as well as anybody else!" Daxter protested. He was curtailed by a wine glass descending with great finality next to his dessert plate.

"I'm never going to get the flour out of my tablet," Keira muttered. "Next time I'm printing off the directions first."

Jak hid his grin behind his hand. It totally hadn't been his fault that they'd dropped the tablet in the mixing bowl. Not at all.

As Uncle was still busy corking the wine he had selected and no one else seemed inclined, Daxter reached for the cake slicer. As full as he was sure he had been five minutes ago, he was willing to accept the challenge of dessert. "Man, I can't wait ta sink my teeth into this!"

"Speaking of teeth," Samos began blithely, "you know they have decently high success rates with adult braces nowadays."

"Daddy!" Keira hissed, elbowing the old man sharply at table level.

"What?! I'm just saying!"

Uncle nodded obliviously, leaning over the table to pour Damas's wine. "Quite right, old lad. That little issue could be corrected in a jiffy."

Jak pointedly cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at his uncle, but the old man seemed to miss the entire exchange.

"Yeah, well, thanks fer that. I'll log that away." Daxter laid his ears back sourly as he transferred his slice of cake from platter to plate. While Samos was blunt as a spoon and unashamed about it, Uncle really didn't seem to have a clue when he was being insulting. Part and parcel of being an aristocratic snob, he supposed; well-intentioned but old-moneyed. "Besides the sheer amount'a money those things cost, I already been there, done that, an' it didn't exactly work out. No way I'm goin' through that again."

Uncle raised a bushy brow. "Not that I doubt your truthfulness, you understand—not very much, at any rate—but really, how could you possibly have…?"

"You really expect us to believe you've had braces before with an overbite like that?" Samos finished skeptically.

Jak's mouth fell open. "Guys, seriously, drop it!"

"I was twelve," the redhead said loudly, cutting off anything else his friend might have been about to say. If the old guys wanted the story, he was willing to fess up. "I landed in this foster place with a pretty fancy couple. They were nice enough, I guess. So they decided that I was gonna get braces. At first I didn't really care one way or the other—lot'a kids get braces in middle school, y'know?" A piece of candy cane popped as he crunched down on it. "I had 'em on about a week before I heard the lady tellin' one'a her friends that I might actually have a prayer of lookin' halfway normal if they fixed my godawful teeth."

Jak looked personally offended.

"Wow, rude," Keira huffed quietly.

Daxter sucked the icing off the side of his fork. "Yeah, rude. So that night I smuggled some needle-nose pliers out'a the garage an' pulled the braces off." He snickered evilly. The sweetness of victory hadn't faded with time. "That was another trip ta the orthodontist, a round of antibiotics, an' the last I saw of _that_ foster home!"

The rest of the table went absolutely silent.

He was still laughing when he noticed the varying degrees of shock on the faces of his fellow dinner guests. His shoulders hunched defensively. "What?"

"Did you really?" Jak asked, expression unreadable.

The redhead shrugged uncomfortably. "Well… yeah. I mean, sure it was a spiteful, rotten thing ta do, but even a kid knows when they're bein' insulted, y'know?"

Damas slowly crossed his arms over his chest. "That," he said frankly, "is hardcore. And impressive, I must admit."

Daxter chuckled nervously. Hearing that he had impressed a man like Damas was almost as nerve-wracking as earning his disapproval. "I think the exact words said ta the social worker were 'ungrateful little brat.' Not so much impressive."

"Seems pretty damn impressive to me," Jak said. He looked somehow proud.

Keira grinned. "Me, too." She raised her wine glass. "Okay. A toast, to doing exactly the opposite of what society says you should do. Like being a female mechanic!"

Daxter enthusiastically complied. "And tearin' off braces!"

"And being a socially awkward football player," Jak agreed, rolling his eyes in amusement.

"What a bunch of free-thinking little anarchists," Damas mused as their glasses clinked over the remnants of the cake. "Makes me think there might be hope for the future of humanity after all."

- / - / - / - / -

Much to Jak's relief, things quieted down considerably after dinner. Uncle, Samos, and Damas sat talking at the table, freshly cleared, while the younger generation beat a retreat to the den with a bottle of bourbon eggnog. There they stayed until almost midnight, watching reruns of all the best classic holiday movies TV could offer.

Finally, though, Keira and Samos took their leave.

Then Uncle bid the boys goodnight and went to bed yawning, his Indiana Jones bathrobe pulled tight around himself to ward off the chill.

Damas wandered in soon after. "Shouldn't you two be getting to sleep?" he asked. "The sooner you sleep, the sooner you get presents."

"Maybe we're waiting for you to sleep so we can shake boxes," Jak countered evenly.

"Don't you dare, you little punk. They're fragile. And that's all I'll say on the matter," he said firmly, obviously noting Daxter's immediate surge of interest at the hint. "Goodnight, you little terrors. Sleep well." He started from the room, then shot a look back over his shoulder. "Not a ribbon out of place before morning, I mean it!"

"We're not five, Dad," Jak groaned as Daxter sniggered. "Go to bed!"

With a small smile that seemed to mean he was satisfied, Damas went.

The dying fire popped in the grate, glowing coals and small flames brightening the dim room. Jak flipped off the TV with a sigh. "You know, sometimes I get the feeling Dad wishes I was still a kid so he could sneak out here in the middle of the night and leave presents." He cast a sidelong glance at the redhead lounging by his side. "Okay, so… now that we're alone, can I just take this opportunity to apologize for the people in my life and how they have acted tonight?"

Daxter looked up from the carved wooden puzzle sphere he had been worrying and blinked. "Whadda ya mean?"

Jak lifted a shoulder awkwardly. "Uncle and Samos, mostly. I'm sorry about earlier. They should have dropped it. Or never brought it up, really. They don't mean any harm, I guess, but you know how stubborn old guys can get when they have opinions—"

"Don't worry about it, Jakkie-boy. Seriously. Ain't like I've never heard it before."

"You shouldn't have to hear it at all." The quarterback frowned. "I don't get what everybody's deal is. Your teeth are fine. They make you look like… you. I like them."

Daxter's hands stilled, though his eyes stayed locked on the puzzle. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a crooked grin that he seemed intent on not letting show. In the dying firelight Jak was sure he could detect a rising flush of red on freckled cheeks. "… ya do, huh?"

Jak smiled softly, dropping an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Yeah, I do."

Daxter leaned into the contact, still looking inordinately pleased. After a moment of contemplation he let the puzzle drop to the coffee table and turned to look up at the green-blonde. "So, Jak. About presents."

Now how had he known that topic was going to come up? Jak chuckled. "I don't know what he got us, I swear."

"Nah, that ain't it. I was just thinkin'. You gave me a really great present an' I didn't get you very much—"

"You know what I got you?" Jak asked suspiciously. That was supposed to have been a surprise.

Daxter blinked at him. "Yeah, duh. You gave it to me already."

"Oh." Jak almost pointed out that his second-hand athletics jacket was definitely not Daxter's real gift, then thought better of it. Now the next morning would definitely be a surprise. "Right, yeah. What about it?"

The redhead's ears fell cutely. "Well, like I said, you gave me this really nice thing an' I couldn't really return the favor, so…"

Suddenly there was a hand on Jak's thigh. Warmth bled through the denim of his jeans almost instantly.

"How 'bout a present you can open tonight?" Daxter breathed, equally hot breath caressing the inner shell of a long ear.

They hadn't been more-than-platonic-best-friends physical in almost two weeks. Taking that into consideration, Jak's answer required zero thought. "Oh, hell yeah." He turned to reach for his friend—who quickly pulled back.

"I mean, like, not right here, obviously," Daxter stammered, his suave seduction attempt evaporating as he glanced nervously at the shadowed entryway of the den. "But up in yer room, y'know. With the door locked. If we're really, really quiet. But then we got plenty'a practice bein' quiet, right, after messin' around in the dorm an' all—"

Fluidly Jak stood up, halting the stream of nervy babble. "Okay, sure. No problem. Let me get the lights."

It took only seconds to turn off the table lamps, surrendering the room to the glow of the final embers in the grate. There was just enough light for Jak to get a hand on the small of Daxter's back and carefully steer him out of the room. The whole house lay in shadow, but Jak knew his way by feel.

Daxter paused at the foot of the stairs. His ears drifted upward, one of them brushing Jak's cheek. Testing the waters to make sure Damas was really in the guest room and not loitering somewhere in the dark, Jak was certain. He pressed gently on the back his hand still rested on.

"Dad's probably not asleep yet," he murmured into that curious ear. "But he won't hear us from down here." Then he smirked. "Not unless I make you scream."

A bony elbow jabbed into his side a split second later, but not before the green-blonde caught the sound of a shocked gasp. It was probably a bad sign that he enjoyed teasing Daxter so much.

"Smart ass," the redhead hissed, then huffed up the stairs. Quietly.

Jak followed with a chuckle.

At the top of the stairs, Uncle's snoring could clearly be heard from the room at the opposite end of the hall. For the umpteenth time in his life Jak was grateful that the old man could sleep through a volcanic eruption. They wouldn't have to worry about him overhearing, either.

"Okay, now I can totally see why you an' Keira never got busted," Daxter said as Jak shut the door to his room behind them.

The quarterback laughed quietly as he locked the door. "What can I say? I lead a charmed life."

Then they were kissing, Daxter's arms going around his waist like that was where they belonged, and something deep inside Jak purred in approval. He'd pretty well resigned himself to the fact that there would be no sex until they got back to Haven U and, as such, had done his best to put the idea from his mind. But now, with Daxter not only amenable to some fooling around, but taking the initiative and _offering _it, Jak could admit that he had missed this aspect of their relationship. A lot.

"Keira can't like, see in here through the window, can she?" the redhead whispered against his lips as they momentarily broke apart.

"Not unless she climbed the tree," Jak assured. "Not likely at one in the morning when it's snowing."

"Okay. Cool." Apparently satisfied, Daxter disengaged from the embrace. Casting an assessing look at Jak, he pulled off his shirt.

Jak's ears went up in silent inquiry.

Dax flushed, shirt clutched loosely in his hands as he squirmed. "I just thought y'might like it if yer present was actually unwrapped fer a change. I mean, if yer cool with it."

"I am very cool with that," Jak vowed. "I'm so cool with it that all ten similes and metaphors you could probably come up with without even thinking about it wouldn't encompass the cool that I am right now."

"Smooth talkin', fake jock. Smooooth."

Jak's own shirt hit the floor in record time, followed shortly by the rest of his clothes and Daxter's pants. Then a strategic retreat to the bed was in order. Jak managed to fumble a bottle of lube out of the nightstand as Daxter slipped beneath the blankets in his boxers, sniggering quietly at the quarterback's ineptitude. Then the light was out and Jak was sliding into bed beside his friend, heartbeat already speeding in anticipation.

Daxter curled against him immediately, palms cool against a muscled chest.

"Cold?"

"Not fer too long, I'm thinkin'," came the cheekily whispered reply.

Jak grinned, pulling his smaller bedmate closer and relishing the feel of unobstructed skin against skin. "Twerp. How long have you been planning this?"

"The sex? About three days. The getting naked? About fifteen minutes."

"Kind of spur of the moment. Not that I'm complaining." Jak appreciatively ran his hand down the expanse of a narrow back.

Daxter's full-body shudder was not necessarily a bad thing. "I figured we've been doin' this long enough I ought'a get with the program. Not like yer gonna kick me out'a bed 'cause I don't look perfect."

The green-blonde chuckled quietly. "Now you're learning." He ran his fingertips experimentally under the band of Daxter's boxers, enjoying the sharp little intake of breath that resulted.

Daxter shifted eagerly against Jak's thigh, his forming erection a pressing, welcome warmth through thin fabric.

The bed creaked loudly.

Both boys froze. The quiet suddenly seemed inordinately loud around them; the silent house waiting for their next move.

"This bed's creaked every time one of us rolled over for a week," Jak reassured, breath tickling a nervously twitching ear. "No big deal." He braced himself on one elbow, raising his upper body for a better angle to trail his mouth down the side of a pale neck—to an even louder creak from the bed frame.

Jak cursed under his breath.

"Shiiiit," Daxter whined quietly, obviously expending great effort on not grinding. "What the hell are we gonna do if we can't even move?!"

For a few seconds, Jak's brain stalled. Alternate locations—the couch (too risky); the hayloft (much too cold); the cellar (too dirty)—chased each other in quick succession. And then, suddenly, the obvious answer presented itself.

"Well," he said slowly, "I guess we just won't move."

Daxter pushed himself up on his arms. Another creak. "Say what, now?" he hissed in disbelief. "Dude, if you think I'm gonna be able ta sleep with the epic boner I've got goin' on here, you've been hit with one too many cranial footballs."

Jak fought down a laugh. "No sleeping, I swear. Not yet. Just trust me, alright? I want to try something." Gently he pushed the redhead back down in bed, rolling him onto his back. "If we have to we can take the blankets and move to the floor. But first let's try this, okay?"

Though he looked doubtful, Daxter allowed himself to be positioned to the quarterback's liking. "Okay, I guess. This better be good."

Being no stranger to challenges on and off the field, Jak knew when one was being issued, even when the issuer didn't. He grinned as he shimmied closer, molding himself against Daxter's side. "It will be. Promise."

- / - / - / - / -

Post-orgasmic haze lingered for long moments. Jak enjoyed the jumble of pliant roommate at his side, trailing his fingers along flushed skin after surreptitiously wiping his hand on the sheets. All that exposed flesh was too rare to waste an opportunity to touch.

All too soon, Daxter stirred. "S' hot," he grumbled faintly, and pushed the blankets off.

The green-blonde smirked, eyes wandering pale skin in the dim glow of the light strands on the far wall. "Yeah, it is."

The comment seemed to sail right over Daxter's head. He lay with his arm flung across his eyes, then swallowed hard. "Man, I need a drink. M'thirsty."

"I believe it. You were gasping like you were dying."

"Hey, it was breathe hard or pass out!" he whined indignantly. "While I was tryin' not ta make noise like a bad porno, might I add. Why's it so damn hard fer me ta be quiet when I'm with you?" He pouted up at the quarterback. "I'm serious. I could rub me off the exact same way you just did an' not make a peep. What's up with that?"

Jak laughed. "Because you can't bite your own nipples?"

"Two words, pal. Fuck, you."

As if to accentuate Daxter's one fingered salute, Jak's phone beeped on the nightstand.

With a hard stretch, the green-blonde was able to grab it. "How much do you want to bet that's Keira?"

Daxter eyed the window uneasily. "You're sure she can't see in here, right?"

Jak rolled his eyes and glanced at the text. "Positive. Her text says 'did Santa come yet? lol.' It's a Christmas Eve tradition." He smiled as he began to type a reply. "Ten years ago she would have asked me that over walkie-talkies."

"Aww, how cute." Dax grinned hugely. "You should send her a dick pic."

"If you want her to know exactly what we just did, then sure." The quarterback's neglected arousal was still more than up for the occasion. After a moment's thought, he added to his text.

/_No santa yet. But I did get to open a present early. That means exactly what you think it means fyi_/

Daxter rolled closer with a soft creak and laid his head on Jak's shoulder, ears flicking idly. "Y'know, not that I'm complainin' about comin' my brains out, but you were the one whose present that was supposed ta be. And yet, yer the one still hard up. Somethin' else you wanna do?"

"Making you squirm like a ferret with fleas is a gift unto itself," Jak chuckled.

"Hey!"

"But, if you're up for it, I'd kind of like to toss you on the floor and frot for an hour or so. How's that sound?"

There was a shocked pause. The redhead's eyes widened even further in the darkened room. He cleared his dry throat. "Uh, s-sure. Sounds like a plan."

Jak couldn't help but lean forward and kiss him again. "Make a blanket fort. I'll go grab us a drink."

"Ah, yes, your compulsion ta keep me properly hydrated strikes again." Daxter fell back against the pillows with a grin. "Y'know, fer a quarterback you spend an awful lot'a time bein' my personal water boy."

Digging through the shadows for hastily abandoned underwear, Jak glanced back at the bed, a reply of '_don't get used to it'_ on the tip of his tongue. But seeing his friend stretched out there without a care in the world, looking truly comfortable without his clothes on for the first time since the quarterback had known him, it was a little alarming how much he did want Daxter to get used to it.

Jak shot him a small smile. "Best buddy's privilege. Now, less dozing and more fort building."

"Alriiiight. Sheesh, from personal water boy ta personal P.E. teacher barkin' orders in ten seconds flat! What's the world coming to?"

"Says the guy who already came once."

Daxter waved him out with a non-repentant air.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Jak slipped into the darkened hallway.

On the table, his phone beeped impatiently, insistent demands falling on distracted ears.

/_OMG! Youre serious arent you_/

/_You giant pervs! Couldnt even wait til your dad leaves again_/

/_How are u guys even being quiet enough i mean daxter just seems like hed be a screamr_/

/_Hellooooo ignoring your bfff is hella rude jakjak_/

/_Omg your doing it again arent u. I swear you better be wearing a santa hat jak. That is literally the only way i will let this slide_/

/_A santa hat for you an daxter can be your lil elf. Or maybe rendeer. Ride teh reindeer jak! Hi ho silver!_/

/_Ok thats it screw the icicles and wind chill im climbing the tree. If i slip and fall and die spying on you and your bf you can have all my stuff_/

/_Yeah ok nvrmnd its really cold out there_/

/_Goodnight you guys. See you tomorrow. Merry Christmas 3_/

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.


	24. Chapter 24

**AN:** As usual, the unedited chapter can be found on adultfanfiction dot org.

* * *

><p>"Better hurry up, Jak. Ball drops in three minutes."<p>

"Hurrying!" Jak yelled from deep in the confines of the pantry. He grabbed yet another jar of nacho cheese. "You know, Dad, if you super responsible adults had waited until midnight to break open the alcohol, I might not be stuck serving snacks to a bunch of drunk people."

Damas chuckled as he walked by the pantry door, the bottle in each hand attesting to a successful trip to the cellar. "Now, now, son. Where's the fun in that?"

Daxter snickered, none too sober himself. Red-cheeked, he stood at Jak's side, arms laden with the chips and snack crackers the quarterback handed him from the shelves. "He's got a point, y'know. So let's go have some more! Champagne is awesome!"

A few rooms down, the den buzzed with activity. Uncle had invited not only Keira and Samos to his New Year's Eve soiree, but all of the surrounding neighbors as well.

Mrs. Perch had arrived with her nephew, a sculpture major home from art school for the holidays, who carried a yellow tabby cat on his shoulder everywhere he went. ("I couldn't leave poor Muse home alone! She'd be heartbroken!") This was apparently encouraged by his professors.

Uncle himself, along with Samos and Ollie, an old fishing buddy of theirs who owned a nearby farm with an enormous pond, had already been sampling the beverages for several hours. Strains of "For he's a jolly good fellow!" floated through the large house, enthusiasm making up for lack of talent.

Farmer Zeb had been asleep in an armchair since nine o'clock.

Jak grabbed the last bag of chips. "Come on, we better get back in there before Uncle starts trying to kiss Mrs. Perch when that ball drops."

"Why'd he do that?" Daxter cocked an ear quizzically.

"You know, the whole kissing at midnight thing. It's an old tradition." Jak rolled his eyes. "He's up on all the old traditions."

"Oh. Yeah, sure." The redhead nodded slowly as they left the pantry, kicking the door shut behind them.

No sooner had they begun to unload the snacks onto the trays in the kitchen, however, than the chanting of the countdown echoed from the den.

"Boys, get in here!" Damas bellowed with all the cheer of a slightly inebriated bison.

Dropping what was left of the snacks, they trotted back into the party at the thirty second mark. Jak paused in the doorway with an unobstructed view of the TV and the rest of the room.

"Ten… nine… eight…"

Riled up by the hubbub around him, Killer executed a brilliantly choreographed weasel war dance on the rug in front of the fire. The sculptor's cat paid very close attention.

"Seven… six… five…"

Keira stood with an industrial-sized party popper in hand, a manic twinkle in her eye.

"Four… three… two… one—!"

There was no warning to preclude what came next. Before Jak could open his mouth to join the chorus of "Happy New Year!" he found his lips otherwise engaged. As noisemakers blew and Keira's party popper swirled streamers and confetti around the room, Daxter anchored his hands in the collar of Jak's shirt and kissed him soundly.

For a moment he forgot why kissing back was a bad idea. Dax tasted like pink champagne. Everything warm and happy, festive and welcoming, _home_.

Then he blinked and pulled away with a gasp, glancing frantically around the room.

Keira hugged a less-grumpy-than-usual Samos. Mrs. Perch hugged her nephew and his cat at the same time. Damas laughed between Uncle and Ollie, who had launched into a very loud rendition of _Auld Lang Syne_. Zeb snoozed on in his chair. No one seemed to have noticed anything untoward.

Jak heaved a sigh of relief as the urge to tackle his roommate behind the sofa subsided. "What the heck was that about?" he whispered sharply.

To his credit, Daxter didn't look smug; just drunk and happy. "That was yer happy new year greeting. It's a tradition."

The green-blonde rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oh, I'll make you think tradition. You're going to pay for that when you sober up."

Fortunately or unfortunately, sober didn't seem to be on anyone's agenda just yet. Everyone but Zeb gathered around the card table that had been set up for snacks and drinks. Flutes of champagne stood, already filled.

"Damas, why don't you lead us in a toast?" Uncle proposed, flute in hand and champagne from his last glass lingering in his whiskers.

Damas raised his glass obligingly. "A toast, then: to family and friends, and especially to our kids, who have done so well their first semester of college. Here's to another great year of new experiences, new adventures, and change for the better."

Amid the chorus of cheers and clinking of glasses, Jak took a long drink.

"Oh! I almost forgot." In the act of raising the glass to his mouth, Damas paused. "And a toast to my son, who's finally decided to put himself out there. I was starting to think he'd never start dating." He reached over and caught a very confused looking Daxter in a one-armed hug. "Nice choice of boyfriends, Jak. I like him."

To the background noise of everyone else's cheers and Keira's delighted laughter, Jak experienced the unique joy of squirting champagne out his nose.

- / - / - / - / -

Several hours later, the house was dark and still. The champagne was drunk, the snacks all nibbled away. All but two of the guests had departed. In the aftermath of a successful party, Uncle and Samos snored from their armchairs, empty glasses and toppled party hats on the sideboard.

Jak dozed on the sofa, trying to summon the drive to get up and go to bed. It was a losing battle. With Keira asleep against his side and Daxter's head in his lap there was no graceful way to make an exit. He had resigned himself to sleeping upright when the floorboards gave a soft creak.

"Stealth fail, Dad," he grumbled, cracking one eye open.

Damas just chuckled and held up his phone. "Give me a smile, Jak. This is going to be my background picture."

"Dad, no. Stop. Just stop." Jak moaned quietly, head falling back against the sofa.

"Can't stop, won't stop, son. This is adorable." Apparently satisfied with the shot, the older man tucked his phone away. "Do you think Daxter will ever take those shoes off?"

The sleeping redhead's feet hung off the arm of the sofa, laced in the custom running shoes Jak had ordered for him online more than a month ago. Deep blue with orange and yellow lightning bolts down the sides, the back of each respective heel bore an embossment of the words "Orange Lightning." He had worn them non-stop since Christmas morning.

Jak couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, eventually. I just hope he'll wear them outside sooner or later. Running shoes aren't much good if you only wear them in the house."

His father stretched hard before sinking back into his own chair. "That just means he treasures them. You picked a good gift."

The quarterback snorted quietly. "Not as good as yours. Way to be a showoff, Dad."

Still soundly asleep, Daxter curled around the tablet he had barely let go of for the past week. The fact that Jak had also been gifted a tablet, identical but for their names laser-etched in the cases, hadn't seemed to dampen his euphoria. They had also each been given a snap-attach keyboard and a printer to share for their dorm room.

"Hey, every college student needs a personal computer of some kind to type up assignments on. Crazy kids, doing everything off your phones. I can't believe you two have been using the computer lab at your dorm for months instead of just asking for a laptop, at the very least." Damas somehow managed to look innocent. "Besides, I like the kid."

Jak's ears flicked back. "We're still not dating. He just gets—"

"—affectionate when he's drunk, I heard you the first fifty times you said it. Doesn't mean I can't still like him. And it doesn't mean you two don't still look and act like you've been best friends your whole lives."

Jak couldn't refute that, so he didn't try. "I guess that's not a bad thing."

Damas chuckled tiredly. "No. No, not at all." Silence fell for a moment as he watched the sleeping redhead pillowed against his son's leg. "… he's not had it easy, has he?"

"No, he hasn't." Jak's hand reflexively fell to Daxter's shoulder.

Dax was one of the most awesome people Jak had ever met. He was sarcastic. He was hilarious. He was smart, creative, and enthusiastic, when he didn't let the insecurities he had been conditioned into take over. The hand life had dealt him was far from fair. As it usually did when Jak thought too long about how unfair it really was, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect his smaller friend from everything—the whole world, if he had to. He wanted to put the little guy up on his shoulder like a sassy ferret and keep him safe forever.

But, since he couldn't very well do that, letting his roommate use him as a bed seemed like a good enough option. There in the warm, quiet dark of home, sandwiched between his best friends, Jak felt like maybe everything was alright.

"I figured, and I'm sorry to have that confirmed. But for what it's worth, from what I've seen the past couple weeks, your friendship is good for him. You're a good kid, Jak. I'm proud of you."

He spared his father an exasperated grin complete with eye rolling. "I'm _your _kid. You have to say that."

Damas snorted. "Like hell I do. If you were a little punk ass you bet I'd be the first one to say so. And knock some respect into you, while I was at it."

"Thanks, drill sergeant." As gently as he could, Jak flexed the arm propped around Keira's shoulders. Much as he enjoyed keeping his friends comfortable, it was starting to fall asleep. "So. When are you planning to head out?" he asked quietly.

"Tomorrow night. Reporting for duty Monday morning."

Jak nodded slowly. Goodbyes were a fact of life, but that didn't mean he disliked them any less. "Classes start Monday, too. They're opening the dorms Saturday afternoon, but we probably won't leave until Sunday. That should get us back to campus with enough time to unpack and get some sleep."

Damas frowned a frown of fatherly concern at the weather app on his phone. "Looks like there's a good chance of some heavy snow on Sunday. You two be careful."

"I know how to drive in snow, Dad. Calm your 'stache." Jak chuckled quietly and closed his eyes. "Honestly I can't believe it's snowing. We're going into a new semester, but it seems like it was just August."

"And it'll be August again before you realize it. That's how time goes when you start getting old, son."

The green-blonde flicked his ears back. "Okay, that was definitely not parental wisdom I wanted to hear as we start off the New Year."

"My parental wisdom has no time and place—it must be taken as it comes."

"You're so full of shit," Jak laughed, trying to keep both quiet and still as his shakes of mirth made Keira mumble in discontent. Daxter was so deep in drunk slumber Jak probably could have dumped him on the floor and gotten no response.

"Sticks and stones, you little brat." With a huge yawn, Damas stood. "I'm off to bed. Sleep as well as you can."

"Traitor," Jak muttered. "Deserter. Too good to sleep in the chair like everyone else?"

"Too smart to join the ranks of those who will have ungodly back aches in the morning. If I hadn't deferred on all those promotions they keep trying to frock me with I'd be brass right now. Do you really think I'm dumb enough to make a twelve hour drive without adequate rest?"

"Oh, go to bed. You're making too much sense for New Year's Eve."

"Love you too, Jak. Goodnight."

Now the only one in the room awake, Jak traced the soothing tick of the clock. Croc snored from the hearth rug. The old men snored from their chairs. Outside an icy wind blustered the windowpanes.

Somewhat grudgingly, he turned his thoughts toward the future. Sure he would be overjoyed when spring came and it got warm enough to play ball again. May and the end of the school year seemed eons away. But he couldn't deny that his father had a point about how quickly time could slip by. He and Daxter had been so busy with the previous semester they hadn't even mentioned what would happen after the next one.

The quarterback wanted to say with absolute certainty that he and the redhead would be roommates next year. He wanted Dax by his side, Phoenix and Razer next door, and Torn breathing down all their necks as usual. He wanted everything to stay exactly the same.

Realistically, though, that wasn't possible. Student housing would honor roommate requests if both parties submitted them in writing, but neighboring requests were doubtful. Even if they all stayed in Praxis Hall, there was no guarantee that the running back and his surly friend would even be on the same floor as Jak and Daxter, or that any of them would wind up with Torn as their RA again.

He didn't know if Daxter would be in the same dorm next year, at the mercy of state supported room and board. The redhead might not even _want_ to be in the dorms. There were always plenty of students looking to shack up in the cheaper rental houses just off campus. Hell, Dax could even find a girl between now and then to move in with.

The thought of not getting to see Daxter every day was even more alarming than the thought of not getting to share a bunk with him anymore, and Jak's throat did its level best to close up without his permission. _Stop it,_ he ordered himself firmly. _The end of the semester that hasn't even started yet is literally months away and you're worrying about fall already._

He would talk to Daxter about fall semester later, when it was actually pertinent. Maybe around spring break. Until then they could enjoy the excitement that came with jumping into the current semester. Simple as that.

And Jak still had to exact retribution against the little turd for the embarrassment earlier that evening, too. Maybe by tickling him until he peed. After the inevitable hangover wore off, of course.

Feeling better once more, Jak shifted into what he could only hope would be a comfortable position to sleep in and closed his eyes.

- / - / - / - / -

Bright and early Sunday morning, Daxter was rooted out of bed.

"Come on, Dax," Jak prodded, gently shaking his shoulder. "It's almost ten. We need to get on the road by noon if we want to get back to Haven before dark."

Daxter rolled out from under the intruding hand with a loud moan of disagreement. It wasn't that he wouldn't be glad to get back home, because he totally would. He missed his own bunk, his desk, even Pizza Haven. He just didn't want to go right at that very moment. Pulling the blanket over his head seemed like the best option.

Unfortunately, the fake jock disturbing his beauty sleep did not magically cease doing so. "Seriously, we need to start getting ready. That storm is getting stronger the closer it comes, not weaker. I don't want to get stuck on the interstate in that, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Ten more minutes," Dax mumbled. Mmmm. Soft and comfy bed. It would be such a shame to leave it behind.

Jak crossed his arms over his chest with a snort. "That's what you said ten minutes ago. I'm not your snooze alarm."

The redhead feigned a snore.

Very sadly, Jak sighed. "Alright. Have it your way."

Daxter shrieked as muscled arms forced their way between his torso and the mattress. "No, wait Jak—!" Too late. He grabbed the pillow as he was scooped from the bed effortlessly, the encumbering blanket still wrapped around him impeding his ability to kick. "Oh god, please don't tickle me! I'll get up, I swear! UNCLE FREDDIE, HELP, JAK'S BEIN' A JERK!"

The quarterback was unimpressed. "Go on, keep screaming like a wimp. Uncle left before the sun even came up."

With a groan of recollection, Daxter went limp. Of course. The old man was already off on his next adventure—some country in Africa Dax had never heard of to help with a documentary on rare monkeys. Damas had left the day before, back to base for duty. There was, indeed, no one to hear him scream.

He wriggled as Jak toted him down the stairs like a bundle of dirty laundry. "If you dump me out in the snow I swear I'll make sure Keira takes yer weasel back ta Kras with her!"

"You are a weasel. Quit squirming." Jak readjusted his hold as the pillow being halfheartedly swung at him dropped to the floor at the bottom of the stairs. "Why would I dump you outside when I could dump you in here instead?"

The 'here' turned out to be the guest bedroom so recently vacated by Damas.

Daxter blinked in confusion as he was placed back on his feet. "Yeah? Little too late ta offer me the guest room, ain't it?"

He had to admit, though, the room was a nice one. A set of French doors led to the back of the veranda, now tightly shut against the winter cold. Framed artwork lined the walls. The carpet was soft and plush. And of course, everything had been cleaned and straightened with military precision, as if Damas had never spent a week there. The enormous bed's sheets were probably tucked so well you could bounce a quarter off it.

Jak causally pushed open the adjoining bathroom door. "Maybe. But I thought I could at least offer you a hot shower in exchange for being unreasonable enough to make you roll out of bed before noon."

Blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, Daxter padded in curiously. "Whoa! You've been holdin' out on me!"

The guest bathroom was obviously Roman-inspired. The floor and walls were tiled with stone; the sink top and massive bathtub looked like marble. A separate shower lauded a modern upgrade with three shower heads positioned inside the plate glass and brass frame.

Daxter opened the shower door appreciatively. "Sheesh, yer uncle sure doesn't skimp on the interior design. Why didn't he do this upstairs?" The bathroom upstairs that he and Jak had been using during their stay seemed painfully ordinary in comparison.

"The tub would have fallen through the floor. He had to reinforce part of the cellar to do this."

"Niiice." The redhead poked his head into the shower, sizing up the water jets. "Color me impressed, big guy. You could fit three people in here, easy."

Jak smirked. "Yeah, you could."

Something in his tone brought Daxter up short. He glanced back at his roommate questioningly.

The quarterback's smirk was now a full blown grin. "Just so happens I haven't had my shower yet this morning either. Wanna share?"

He could feel himself turning red. "Seriously?"

"Sure. We've got the house to ourselves. Why not do something stupid we'd never be able to do in the dorm before we go back?"

It was hard to deny the logic in that. Daxter didn't think he would ever be brave enough to share a shower stall with Jak in their hall. Even at four in the morning when everyone else should be asleep, the chances of getting walked in on would be just too high. Not worth the risk. But here, in the empty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, maybe he would take the chance. After all, when would it ever come again?

"Okay. Why not?" He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could.

Jak immediately pulled off the shirt he had worn to bed. "Cool. We should have enough time to relax before we go. Keira wants to stop for lunch together before she gets off at the Kras exit, too. Sound good?"

"Whatever you say, pal. Yer the one with the keys."

"You can drive if you want," Jak offered. Then he paused, shirt landing neatly on the rim of the tub. "You do know how to drive, right?"

"Of course I do," Daxter scoffed. He pulled the blanket cloak off his shoulders and rolled it haphazardly into a ball. "I just never bothered ta take the drivers test. No car, no permanent address; didn't seem worth it."

"When you put it that way, I guess not. But if you ever decide you want to take it, you can use my car." With that the quarterback began to strip in the unconcerned way only locker room dwellers could manage.

Clearing his throat, Daxter slipped back out into the bedroom to drop the blanket on the bed. Now came the really awkward part.

_Alright, you can totally do this,_ he coached himself. _No big deal. Bein' naked with Jak in the shower won't be any different than bein' naked with him in bed the other night. There's just brighter lights in the bathroom, is all—big bright lights that'll perfectly highlight how freakin' pale you are. An' show off all those muscles you don't have. An' point out just how messed up yer back is. _With a deep sigh he shuffled back into the bathroom.

Jak was already bare, gloriously oblivious to his resemblance to a toned, tanned, long-haired demigod. Glancing over his shoulder to check the redhead's whereabouts, he smiled invitingly and stepped into the shower.

Locking the door quickly behind him (no sense taking chances, even if the house was empty) Daxter executed the quickest disrobing of his life and followed his friend into the spray. He shivered at the rush of warmth, skin pricking pleasantly as he drifted under one of the shower heads. The enclosed box, unlike the curtained stalls at the dorm, was already filling with muggy steam.

"I'll wash your back, you wash mine?" Jak held out a washcloth enticingly.

Dax pretended to consider. "Tempting offer. Who goes first?"

"Since you're the guest, I guess you get first dibs. Turn around." The green-blonde swirled a finger demonstratively.

Pulling in a steadying breath, Daxter turned his back to Jak. His shoulders immediately hunched despite his best efforts to play it cool.

Large hands began to lightly knead tensing muscles at the back of his neck. "Don't shrimp up on me," Jak teased lightly. "This is supposed to be relaxing."

"Tryin'." He really was. If there was anybody he could trust, it was Jak. He had let the guy touch his junk; it should be no problem at all to let him touch his back. "Sorry. It ain't you. It's just… y'know."

"Yeah." Jak squeezed his shoulders briefly before backing off, an arm's length suddenly between them. "Wanna stop? We don't have to do this. Or you could just do mine, if you want to. I don't mind."

"Ha! Nice try, pal. Start soapin'."

"Yes, sir." Jak grinned and did as he was told.

Daxter closed his eyes as the lathered cloth began at the back of his neck and traveled across his shoulders, the soft weave scrubbing pleasantly. His ears slowly drifted up from their defensive slant. This wasn't half bad. Though Jak took his time, meandering slowly across a freckle-smattered back and down a limber spine, it seemed over far too soon.

"Hey, you should totally keep goin'," he murmured groggily as the green-blonde stepped back.

"Don't you fall asleep on me," Jak warned, even as he relented and dragged the cloth down Daxter's unresisting arm. "I mean it—at noon we're out of here. You can sleep in the car if you're that tired."

So maybe staying up until three in the morning trying and failing to beat Keira at Mario Kart hadn't been the smartest thing to do. The redhead hummed drowsily as he leaned back against his bigger friend. "S'yer fault fer draggin' me in here where it's warm and givin' me a massage. What'd you think was gonna happen?"

"I thought you'd be harder to wash than an uncooperative ferret," Jak laughed. "But I'm glad you're enjoying it. Thanks for humoring me." A soapy hand gently squeezed a pale hip. "And honestly, I was kind of hoping we could fit some loud sex into our busy morning schedule."

Daxter's mouth fell open. "What the what, now?" He craned his neck, blinking water droplets out of his eyes as he peered back over his shoulder at Jak. "Did you just say loud? And sex? Why loud?"

Taking advantage of the mop of red suddenly presented to him, Jak reached up to adjust the angle of the closest shower head. "Because we're alone for the first time since the first night we got here and you almost bit through your lip the other night trying to keep quiet. Being loud for once will probably do you some good." He grabbed a bottle of shampoo off the ledge built into the wall. "Here, close your eyes. I'll wash your hair."

"I was doin' just fine keepin' quiet," Dax whined, shaking his head as a deluge of water poured through his hair.

"Of course you were." Jak's hands, bearing shampoo, sank into moisture-darkened strands of red-gold and began to lather. "Huh. Your hair's really growing out. It's pretty long when it's wet."

If his eyes hadn't already been closed he would have rolled them at the abrupt topic change. Instead he settled on a smirk. "Oh, yeah. It's my secret dream ta join you an' Phoenix in the ponytailed fake jock club."

Fingers scratched gently along his scalp, raising bubbles and goose bumps before twisting handfuls of hair up into a rather accurate semblance of horns. "Hey, don't be rude. I don't have to make you moan my name, you know."

The redhead flushed at the thought. "Like you'd miss a chance ta hear that. That's the one jockly part of you that ain't fake—you love ta hear people yellin' yer name."

"Can't deny it has a certain appeal," Jak purred. He gently directed Daxter back beneath the spray to rinse out the shampoo bubbles. "Hold still. Conditioner."

"Eww, no, don't put that junk in my hair! It looks like jizz!"

Jak's helpless chuckle was drowned out by sudden thunderous pounding on the bathroom door.

"Okay, you two, I know you're both in there doing 'experimental' not-boyfriend things, but seriously, have you seen the radar? If we're going to get to the pancake house and on our way back to school before this snow hits, we gotta go! The weather station just announced it's officially been upgraded to the first blizzard of the season."

Daxter was out of Jak's arms, out of the shower, and wrapped in a towel in seconds. "How does she keep getting into your house?!" he hissed, toweling his dripping body frantically.

"Out in a minute, Keira," Jak yelled, stepping out of the shower with a laugh. He patted Daxter consolingly on the shoulder. "Come on, Dax. Pancakes are on me."

- / - / - / - / -

They rolled into the outskirts of Haven U just ahead of the worst of the storm. Fat flakes of snow swirled in the headlight beams as Jak steered them through campus. He felt inordinately pleased as they turned into the Praxis Hall parking area.

"Here we are, Dax. Dorm, sweet dorm."

The redhead dozing in the passenger seat beside him lifted his head. "Wha? We home already?" Killer slept on, curled warmly in the crook of Daxter's arm.

Jak put the car in park, glancing up at the welcoming glow of the residence hall's windows shining through the gathering gloom. Somehow it didn't seem so strange that returning to campus felt as much like coming home as rolling up his uncle's driveway had.

"You slept most of the way," he teased. "Carbed out on all those pancakes." He stretched, working out the kinks from four hours of driving. "This is it, you know. The new semester starts now."

Daxter yawned, looking far from concerned. "New semester, huh. Think we can handle it, Jakkie-boy?"

The green-blonde looked over at his best friend, backlit through the car window by the dorm where their friends were all gathering. The sight, and the thought of the months ahead, brought only contentment. There was no trace of the empty, hollow feeling that had haunted him during move-in day that August afternoon so long ago.

Smiling, he chucked his roommate gently on the shoulder. "Yeah, Dax. I think we'll handle it just fine."

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.

- / - / - / - / -

Damas: Nice choice of boyfriends, Jak. I like him!

Dax: ?

Jak: *blows champagne out his nose*

Uncle: Well, bother. There goes my plan of giving your great, great, great-grandmother's pearls to your bride on your wedding day… unless one of you might be persuaded to wear a dress?

Dax: He's got a point, Jak. Pearls and a tux might clash like whoa. Rock paper scissors for it!

Jak: *hack*cough*wheeze*

/

Keira: Hey guys! Hope I'm not interrupting your shower sex experiment, but pancakes are pretty important to me right now. More important than your sex lives, basically. Any chance you'll be done soon?

Dax: How the hell does she keep getting into your house?!

Jak: I don't know. It's an ongoing issue. I'll ask Uncle to install some screens.

Dax: And maybe spray while he's at it? This is ridiculous!

/

Keira: Okay, Damas, I bet you twenty bucks they'll officially come out as real boyfriends by summer break!

Damas: Keira, I'm surprised at you. Your friends' private lives are nothing to speculate and wager on. The boys will sort things out between themselves in their own time.

Keira: Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry, Damas.

Damas: …oh, what the hell. I'll bet fifty on spring break!

/


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: **As usual, the unedited version can be found on adult fanfiction dot net. Enjoy!

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

* * *

><p>On the first morning of spring semester, Daxter moaned and groaned himself awake under a barrage of insistent nudges from his roommate. "Whaaaaat?" he groused blearily, rubbing his face against the unusually bright glare of morning light through their window. "My alarm ain't even gone off yet, ya nutcase!"<p>

The quarterback's voice was markedly smug. "It hasn't gone off yet because I turned it off."

"What?!" Daxter sat up so fast he nearly lost his balance, unused to being topside in a bunk bed after nearly a month away. "You jackass! Why would you do that? I'm gonna be late the very first day!" He was blindly scrambling down the ladder when Jak laughed.

"Because you didn't need it. Classes have been cancelled. The whole campus is shut down."

The redhead reached the floor, still confused and fighting an icky surge of bad adrenaline. "Say what, now?"

Jak's grin was pure, childish happiness. "You're not going to believe how much snow we got last night."

With a pterodactyl screech of glee, Daxter bolted for the window. Clutching the curtains, he gazed out in awe.

It had been too dark the night before to see how much snow was actually accumulating as they moved back into the dorm. In the light of day, the results of the blizzard that had howled while they slept spread as far as the eye could see. Through the fat flakes still spiraling down, tiny earthmovers trundled up and down the paths and sidewalks, half hidden in deep ravines of snow. A plow truck slowly cruised the road in front of the building, scraping away layer after layer of white, only for it to be replaced almost instantly.

"The official report is twenty-seven inches," Jak said from behind him, coming closer to drape an arm around his shoulders as they looked out together. "Radio said we could get four to six more before evening. Blowing and drifting will keep up into tonight."

Daxter quivered with excitement, eying the drifts that had to come up to at least his hips. A service vehicle parked by the road was almost completely covered, only the antenna visible from beneath the mounds of snow. "Okay, so, hear me out: we get a kayak from the rec building, right, and we find a spot on that hill out back that doesn't have too many trees in the way—"

"I don't know, Dax. I should probably stay in and start reading the syllabus professor Vin emailed us this morning. Make good use of my time and everything."

The redhead's ears dropped instantly. That was it? No snow? No forts? No frozen projectiles to throw at Razer's head? He had gotten so used to having Jak's attention all to himself over break that the sudden reminder he would have to share the quarterback with schoolwork was like an unwelcome snowball to the eye.

His morose thoughts ground to a halt when Jak's serious expression broke into a grin. "Pfff. Yeah right. You totally believed I was going to waste a snow day, didn't you?"

"Ass. I need yer daddy here ta throw ya in a snowdrift for me." He thumped the blonde lug's barrel chest with a grudging grin in return. "Saddle up, big guy. We need nourishment for proper tomfoolery and I bet there's some hash browns calling my name downstairs."

Unfortunately for Daxter, there were no hash browns to be had. The rest of the dorm seemed to have gotten there first. With classes cancelled and nowhere to rush off to, everyone in Praxis Hall had migrated downstairs for food at roughly the same time. By the time the residents of room 317 arrived, most of the hot breakfast options had been scavenged. So had every seat in the dining room.

Jak and Daxter sat on the floor in a loose circle with Phoenix, Razer, and everybody's favorite RA. The wide, open common area was littered with such circles, the din of several hundred students' chatter echoing to the high ceiling.

"This blows," Dax grumbled around a spoonful of oatmeal. "A snow day eatin' subpar chow on the hard, drafty-ass floor—where's the justice?"

"Justice would be whiny underclassmen choking on their spoons." Torn glared at him over his coffee cup. "Be thankful there's anything to eat at all. The kitchen is operating on a skeleton crew. All non-essential staff were told not to risk coming in this morning."

"I think it's kind of fun," Phoenix offered. "Kind of like a picnic. In pajamas." He took a swig of cold hot chocolate, grimaced, and dumped the rest into the potted ficus next to him. "At least the power didn't go out last night. It was cold as balls in our room as it was. Can't imagine what it'd feel like if the 'heat' went out."

Jak laughed. "If the buses were running, I'd suggest buying an electric blanket."

"Or burning the math books for warmth," Dax supplied more cheerfully. "That's always an option."

For a moment Phoenix actually looked wistful. "Ah well. Snow's got to melt down sometime. But in the meantime, what are your plans for the day, since classes are off the table?"

The redhead sat his empty oatmeal bowl aside and reached for his bottle of juice. "Well, since the rec center is closed and I can't get that kayak we needed…" He grinned at Torn's look of intense disapproval and morbid interest. "Jak 'n me are gonna hike down to Pizza Haven."

Razer, searching the pockets of his robe for smokes, looked skeptical. "The place isn't closed? Most of the city is shut down. How much pizza do they really expect to sell?"

"They are closed, but Taryn needs a hand diggin' the front sidewalk out and I'm the only employee who lives close enough ta walk there with all the roads closed."

"Lucky you." Razer raised a cigarette in triumph.

Phoenix promptly stole it. "If you think you're going outside to smoke this in a robe and slippers, you're mad. Coat first, please." While his roommate sputtered indignantly, he turned a winning smile on Jak and Daxter. "Would you two be up for another movie night this evening? There's not much else to do with campus shut down. We could celebrate an extra night without homework."

"Sure," Jak agreed at once. "That'd be fun. What are we watching?"

"Whatever strikes our fancy, I suppose." Phoenix pulled the cigarette out of Razer's impatient grabbing range. "Alright, alright! Let's go get some proper clothes on and I'll step outside with you."

"I'm not going to remind you again that you better be smoking that at least twenty feet from the entrance of the building!" Torn bellowed, but the four were already heading for the stairs, focused on gearing up for their various arctic quests.

Daxter had a spring in his step. It was going to be a good day; he could feel it.

- / - / - / - / -

"This is madness," Razer muttered around his cigarette, sourly contemplating the drifts that stood taller than head height against the side of the building. The blue hems of his long, red winter coat eddied around his knees in the flurry-laden wind.

"Madness? No." Phoenix thundered up the freshly plowed path with all the enthusiasm of a cart horse let out of its stall for a morning frolic. "This. Is. Haven!"

Razer's eyes widened, ears falling in alarm. At the last moment he dodged, sliding somewhat jerkily behind Jak as Phoenix left the ground.

The quarterback never knew what hit him. One minute he was reaching for a handful of snow to hit Daxter with, and the next minute he was on his face in a vast, freezing field of white three yards off the path with his running back crushing him into the drift.

Luckily, wrestling away from Phoenix wasn't nearly as hard as wrestling away from his dad. Jak thrashed onto his back, caught his teammate neatly in the ribs with his snow boots, and launched him off. "I'm asking Sig to make you run extra suicides this spring," he threatened, sitting up to shake snow out of his hair and ears.

"Love you too, Jak-o," Phoenix sang from where he sprawled.

Razer took a long drag of his cigarette and rolled his eyes, unaware of the redhead sneaking up behind him. "Play nicely, children, or I might have to separate yo—oof!" He windmilled frantically, cigarette flying from his gloved hand, as Daxter's push landed him in a cold heap on Phoenix's lap.

"'Ello, mate," Phoenix grinned.

Razer swore, trying and failing to struggle upright as his arms sank into the snow. "You little cretin!" he snarled, inadvertently kicking his roommate in the gut as he tried to get up and give chase. "I will strangle you with that hideously shabby scarf!"

"Ack!" Daxter quickly hightailed it out of range, running up the sidewalk away from the dorm, the red scarf Jak had given him fluttering behind. "Wow, would ya look at the time? Gotta get on our way ta Pizza Haven! C'mon, Jak, go go go go!"

Jak, still knee-deep in the drift, looked up in alarm. "Dax, wait, slow down—"

For once, speed was not the redhead's friend. He lost traction on the icy path and slid smack into a half-buried trashcan with a yelp.

Jak facepalmed.

"It's exactly what you deserve!" Razer shouted. Finally back on his feet, he brushed patches of snow off his coat and knees. "Idiot."

Luckily, the trashcan was an industrial sized model of the kind that periodically littered all the sidewalks of campus; too heavy to tip. Daxter picked himself up and shook himself off, none the worse for wear, as Jak slogged out of the snowdrift.

"See you later!" Phoenix called from his snowy seat as the two began the trek of several blocks to Pizza Haven. "Think about what movies you want to watch!"

The journey was slow going. The sheer volume of snow that had to be cleared meant the plows could only open so much of each sidewalk, narrow lanes of slippery treachery bordered by canyon walls of piled snow that had to be navigated single file. Jak didn't mind, though. He was content to bring up the rear, watching the tail of his scarf as it fluttered in the snowy wind at his roommate's back. Seeing Daxter so eagerly wearing his old scarf and the Sentinel High coat he had been given made something in the quarterback purr with rightness.

"Are you starin' at my butt?" Dax asked, looking suspiciously over his shoulder as they traversed a crosswalk.

"Who, me? No. I'm staring at your scarf." He grinned. "That your scarf is touching your butt is purely coincidental."

His roommate huffed and wrapped said scarf tighter around his neck and chin, but Jak had a hunch the redness kissing freckled cheeks wasn't just a byproduct of the harsh wind.

As they rounded a corner off the main road onto a side street the wind died down, blocked by the row of buildings that housed the pizzeria. Up ahead they could see Ximon's rattletrap pickup truck slowly backing into a freshly plowed parking space. Taryn shoveled industriously by the front door.

"Hey guys!" Daxter called as they skated up. "The life of the party has returned! You may now commence telling me how much you missed me."

Taryn spared him a glance as she tossed a shovelful in front of the comic shop next door. "Do a good job shoveling and I may forgive you for disappearing for three weeks without notice."

"Hey!" The redhead's ears flew up indignantly as Jak laughed. "Gee, I'm happy ta see you too, sweetheart." Gloved fists landed on cocked hips; a frostbitten nose turned up. "To think I even bribed Jak into comin' along to help me help you out. I see where I stand."

Ximon's head and one shoulder appeared from inside the idling tuck. He had a ski cap jammed down over the top of his baseball hat. "Don't let her fool you, dude. She couldn't wait for you to get back. Kept saying how boring it was while you were gone."

Taryn hefted a load of snow at his door. Almost simultaneously, the truck backfired in spectacular fashion. Everyone on the sidewalk jumped at the sudden explosion of sound. Taryn, already off balance, dropped her shovel and went down backwards with a startled shout as her boots went out from under her on the icy concrete.

Jak heard, with disturbing clarity, a crisp snap as she landed on her arm.

Her second scream was just as startled but infinitely more pained, echoing off the icicles hanging overhead. She rolled over and curled protectively around the injured arm even as Daxter and Jak lunged forward.

"Holy shit, that sounded bad! Where's it hurt?" Daxter hit his knees on the ice and pulled his boss up gently until she was mostly upright, back propped against his chest.

"It's broken, it's broken—don't touch it—!" Taryn snarled, still cradling her arm and looking queasy through reflexive tears of pain. "I think… I think it's on the underside…"

_Fractured ulna. Oh my god, she'll never throw again,_ Jak's athlete instincts told him dimly. _Hospital. She needs to go to the—_

The truck door slammed as Ximon fell out of it, struggling across the ice with abject panic in his voice. "Taryn! Oh, dude, cos, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Can you get up?"

"My arm is broken, not my legs," she hissed, getting slowly to her feet with three sets of helping hands. "I think I might need to go to the hospital."

Daxter's rapid breaths puffed white in the frigid air as his eyes rolled eloquently. "Oh, ya think? What was yer first clue, Sherlock?!" He didn't let go of the double fistfuls of her parka, turning to Ximon before she could seethe a retort. "Dude, you're gonna hafta take her to the ER."

The blonde balked, face paling even further until his complexion seemed to match the snowy backdrop. "Me? Why can't we call an ambulance?"

"Most of the roads are still snowed shut! It'd take 'em half an hour ta get here when you could jam it in four wheel drive an' have her there in five minutes!"

"I'm right here and fully able to be part of this conversation, you know," Taryn huffed irritably.

Jak sized her arm up. There was no way to tell how bad things really were without getting her coat off, something better left to the medical professionals if they didn't want to hurt her any more than she already was. But if they could stabilize it somehow…

"Taryn, can we try to splint this?" he asked her. "I broke my arm falling off an ostrich when I was a kid and our neighbor splinted it with a hand trowel and bailing twine. I know basic field first aid, so I think I could wrap yours up pretty well. It might make the ride easier on you."

"You fell off a what when you were a child?" A violet brow rose incredulously. She didn't stop hugging her arm. "The hospital isn't far, so I'm not sure a splint would do much good in this case—" She wavered, wobbled slightly, and winced hard as the arm shifted the smallest fraction. "Well then, why don't we do that after all."

Ximon, in a fit of inspiration, lunged back into the truck and emerged with an ice scraper. "Here, use this!"

"Perfect." Jak grabbed it, scanning the vicinity. "Okay, now we just need something to tie—"

Daxter was already unwinding his scarf. "Make sure I get this back when the docs are through with ya, okay Toots? Sentimental value, y'know."

"Oh, I'm sure," she cooed sarcastically, even as moving her arm into proper slinging position sprang fresh tears to her eyes. "I'm sure the moths in your closet will miss it terribly."

"Hey! Okay, now yer beggin' for a day-old breadstick swordfight. Me an' you, lady! I'll tie one arm behind my back so it'll be fair."

Friendly bickering kept the patient distracted, and the makeshift splint was on in minutes.

Ximon leapt back into his truck as Jak and Daxter helped Taryn into the passenger seat. "Don't worry about a thing, babe," the redhead assured as Ximon leaned over to buckle her in. "Me an' Jakkie-boy will get the walk shoveled in no time, and I'll call Osmo and tell him what happened. We can just close up shop fer a few days while you heal up. No biggie."

"No we can't!" she protested, leaning out the open window, snowflakes caught in her ponytail. "Daxter, the restaurant has to stay open. Christmas break was nearly dead; it always is with everyone off campus. We need the revenue this week." She bit her lip worriedly, as stressed as Jak had ever seen her. "I still need to finalize everyone's schedules, and the dough batches for tomorrow need to be started, and—"

"And you need to go to the ER an' get a damn cast on yer broken arm!" Daxter yelled, flailing in exasperation. "I'll take care of all of it, okay? Just go!" He backed away from the rumbling truck and waved Ximon onward. "Make sure they give her lots and lots of pain meds, alright? Sheesh."

Obeying his command, the behemoth trundled slowly off through the snowy lanes. They watched in silence as it rounded the corner and disappeared.

"I just committed to being responsible, didn't I?" Daxter sighed. "Crap, did I just volunteer ta be the stand-in manager?" He rubbed his face in frustration, gloves making cold-nipped cheeks even redder and more tender. "I think I just volunteered ta be the stand-in manager! Man, how do I get myself into these messes?"

"I'll finish shoveling while you do… managerial stuff?" Jak offered.

"I don't know anything about bein' a manager! … except that somebody's gotta cover Taryn in the kitchen or we're sunk." The redhead's ears angled back in thought. "Good idea though, Jakkie-boy. You shovel while I go make some calls. Maybe I can get Ellie an' Riley in the kitchen for Taryn the next week or two—they're the best pizza makers we got when they're not throwin' dough balls and doin' dorky dances in the kitchen."

"You and I do dorky dances," Jak pointed out reasonably.

The new manager was less than impressed with reason. "Less talking, more shoveling!" With a grand flourish, he disappeared into the pizzeria with a cheerful tinkling of the bells over the door.

- / - / - / - / -

They ended up spending the whole afternoon at Pizza Haven.

Daxter called each of his coworkers in turn, explaining what had happened to Taryn and hammering out definitive shifts for the next pay period. When all was said and done, he admired their manager's restraint just a little bit more. Some of their employees' excuses for avoiding unpopular shifts were horrendous.

Initially he felt bad for ruining his roommate's day by asking him to stay and help, but Jak didn't seem to mind. He shoveled off the sidewalk in front of the entire length of the building and threw down salt to dissolve the ice that had caused Taryn's wipeout. Once or twice Daxter glanced out the front windows, phone to his ear, and caught the quarterback leaning on his snow shovel, looking back at him with a smile on his face.

Daxter absolutely did not blush and turn quickly back to the staffing schedule tacked to the wall.

Jak tromped in not long after that, trailing melting salt crystals across the checkered floor. "All finished." He propped the shovel against the wall and leaned against the counter next to the cash register. "If anybody falls out there now, it's their own fault."

Ice and snow frozen into blonde strands was already starting to melt in the warm, pizza-scented air. Daxter reached out without thinking to brush at them. "Thanks, big guy. I owe ya one. For your efforts, there will be pizza. And possibly a BJ."

Jak's ears perked in immediate interest. "At the same time?"

"Dude, no!" The redhead's face flushed with more than the heat of the oven he'd fired up. "Not the second thing, jeez! Food now, blowjobs later."

Somehow the quarterback managed to look mostly innocent. "Right. Just had to ask."

Daxter glowered. "I'm beginning to suspect you have a food fetish." The oven buzzed in the background. "And fer the record, you are not allowed ta turn me on at work!" He grabbed the wooden peel and, months of practice serving him well, semi-expertly placed the steaming pizza on a cooling rack.

A green eyebrow rose along with the steam. "So you admit that the idea turns you on."

Daxter propped the peel against the wall with a bang. "Say what?"

"Nothing." And there was the innocent fake jock act again. "Yay pizza!"

"S'what I thought, wise guy." He began to slice the pie with a vengeance, hopefully hiding his embarrassment.

It wasn't like it was his fault that he sort of fantasized occasionally while he was at work. He couldn't be blamed if his mind started to wander when he was in the middle of a dead shift, could he? If while he was standing at the counter like a zombie he started to imagine Jak pinning him to that counter, kissing him stupid, hips grinding against his—

His brain so did not need fuel for those fantasies, especially not now, when he and Jak were actually alone there together.

Next to the register, his phone rang. Flustered, he grabbed it. "Hello, what?!"

_/"Hey dude. Only me."/_

"Ximon!" Daxter quickly turned his back on the hunky blonde distraction across the way. "What's going on? How's Taryn?"

_/"Way happier than she was a little while ago. Morphine is a wonderful thing, dude."/ _The delivery dude chuckled. _/"So how are things on your end? If she weren't for a loop right now I know cos would want to know about the schedule."/_

"The schedule's done, sidewalk's clear, dough's rising, and everything's under control." Daxter polished his nails on the front of his shirt. "Tell Taryn she's welcome."

There was muttering on the other end as Ximon relayed the message, then sounds of a scuffle before Taryn's voice broke in. Loudly. _/"Hello, Daxter? You are wonderful and adorable and when I get back I'm going to hug you and squeeze you, you perfect little thing~"/_

For just a moment, Daxter was speechless. Then he and Jak simultaneously cracked up. "You are sooo high right now," he laughed helplessly. "Put Ximon back on, okay? And take it easy!"

Ximon returned soon after. _/"Okay, dude, I gotta go. They're about to discharge her."/_

"Do I need ta stay here an' help her get settled?" Daxter asked.

_/"Nah, dude, I'm taking her home with me. Figured I'd better keep an eye on her tonight. Somebody has to make sure she takes her meds and keep her away from the car keys. She'll start trying to go back to work as soon as the painkillers wear off."/_

"Good plan. Give me a call if you need anything."

Jak was still amused as Daxter ended the call. "Wow. That was more niceness from her in thirty seconds than I've heard since you started working here."

Dax shrugged rakishly. "What can I say? Even the badass babes can't deny my charms forever."

"So charming," the green-blonde agreed solemnly. "Especially when the people you're charming are high on morphine."

"Do you want this pizza? Because I do not have to give you this pizza," Daxter threatened pointedly.

"No, no, I want the pizza," Jak soothed.

"Then I would advise you pipe down an' eat it so we can get home before dark." He deftly plated the pie onto a serving platter and flourished it onto the counter in front of his jock. "And no more wise cracks or I'll make _you _give _me _the blowjob."

This time it was Jak who flushed. He folded a slice of pizza and crammed it into his mouth without another word.

Daxter chose his own slice, confident that he had come out on top of their exchange. And if his pants were ever so slightly tight and uncomfortable at the thoughts now swimming happily in his brain, it seemed a fair price for victory.

- / - / - / - / -

"I can't believe you never saw Aliens before. It's a classic." Safely back inside their own room, Jak ate the last few pieces of popcorn and crumpled the bag.

Movie night with Phoenix and Razer had gone exceptionally well. They had watched the first two films in the series before Razer had all but kicked them out to prepare for the coming morning's classes. The normally unruffled transfer student had appeared properly horrified throughout the viewing; exactly the reaction a good sci-fi horror movie aimed for.

Daxter flopped onto Jak's bunk with a protesting groan of old wood. "That was seriously the creepiest thing I've ever watched. We should'a watched those on Halloween! Well, I mean, if we weren't out makin' trouble." He rolled over and reached down to lift the edge of Jak's comforter off the floor. "Sheesh, those face-huggy things, though! That part where they were sleepin' and it was hiding in the room with 'em? Gonna be glad I don't sleep on the bottom bunk tonight—"

Killer shot out with a screech just as Daxter's upside down face peeked underneath.

The redhead screamed loudly, fell off the bunk in a flurry of flailing limbs, and landed face first on the rug.

Unable to form words, Jak laughed until he cried.

"Holy shit!" Daxter struggled upright on the rug, breathing hard and clutching the front of his shirt over his heart. "That was seriously not cool, weasel!" He looked up at Jak. "Some support you are. I'm down here fearin' for my life and you're laughin'. So mean, Jak."

"That was beautiful," Jak proclaimed. "I'm going to treasure that moment forever."

True to form, his roommate flipped him off. "So what're we gonna do the rest of the night?" he asked, pulling himself back onto the bunk.

Sorting through the pile of new textbooks on his desk, Jak found the volume for the history class they had signed up for together. "I thought I'd skim the first chapter of non-Western Civ so I can take better notes during the lecture tomorrow." Book in hand, he crossed to the bunks and sat down on his own. "Want to read too?"

Daxter's face convulsed, but he nodded grudgingly. "Since I ain't got anything better ta do, I guess so. But only if we can, like, get up under the blankets. I forgot how cold it gets in here."

With orchestrated shuffling, they settled in. Pillows were mounded, blankets were situated, and Jak finally settled in with the chapter propped open on his stomach and Daxter draped over his chest. A small rustle heralded Killer a moment later, who walked all over both of them before finding a spot that he liked on Jak's knees.

"Can you see?" Jak asked.

"Pretty much, yeah."

The quarterback chuckled and began to read silently to himself. Every few minutes he would grab the corner of a page questioningly before turning it at Daxter's distracted nod.

Halfway through the chapter, he paused. "Are you even paying attention?" he asked, glancing down at the mop of red hair that was his bedfellow. "I'm not going to let you see my notes if you're not going to do the reading."

"Of course I'm payin' attention. I'm learnin' all about non-western civilizations, here." Daxter squinted at the book. "Though, I gotta ask. Why'd you wanna sign up for this class, anyway? What's so great about it?"

"Because it talks about more than just Europe. I've spent my whole life hearing about all the countries and customs and cultures of the whole world from my uncle, but we never did more than skim over most of it in high school." The quarterback shrugged amiably. "Figured I'll never be an explorer like my uncle, but at least this way I won't be totally ignorant about the rest of the planet."

Daxter blinked up at him. "You couldn't just say 'because history is a required core class' like all the rest of the jocks and leave it at that, could ya."

"No, I couldn't."

The redhead grinned impishly. "I thought not." Sneaky fingers suddenly plucked the book from Jak's grasp. "Fascinating as that is, I can deny it no longer—readin' history ain't exactly what I'd prefer to be doin' in bed." He dropped the textbook off the edge of the mattress with a thump that made Killer jump and scuttle off the bed indignantly. "I think I might'a mentioned something about a BJ earlier?"

Jak's heart beat faster. "Yeah, I think I remember that." He'd remembered it several times since that afternoon. He just hadn't been planning on bringing it up. But now, with a bold (if chilly) hand inching down his torso beneath the blankets, the subject had been broached without him.

"What kind of pal would I be if I went back on my promises?" Dax purred, nuzzling under Jak's chin in a way that pushed them both flatter into the pillows. Fingers breached the flimsy barrier that was the waistband of the quarterback's sweatpants.

Jak struggled to focus despite the all-systems override in favor of what was happening. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I won't be mad."

"But there's this cool thing I been wanting to try!" The hand down his pants began to knead the rapidly forming hardness in his boxers persuasively. "I found it online. That tablet's the best thing that's ever happened ta me, I swear."

Jak's eyes rolled for more than one reason. "I seriously doubt my dad gave you that so you could watch porn on it," he managed, rocking his hips into the attention.

"My phone screen is the size of a playing card. My tablet screen's the size of a textbook. You tell me which one shows better details for researchin' all things sexy."

Green brows waggled in response.

That night neither of them finished their reading.

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.

Outtakes!

/

Taryn: Daxter, you are wonderful and precious and I love you~!

Dax: Ha! Did you hear that, Jak? Someone appreciates my awesomeness. …Jak?

Jak: Suddenly I feel an unreasonable yet undeniable surge of rage and hatred for your boss. Any chance you'll quit before I start posturing like an idiot?

Dax: Heck no. Posture, my football pigeon, posture!

/

Jak: Okay, all in favor of watching aliens with acid blood burst out of people's ribcages, say aye.

Razer: Absolutely not!

Jak, Dax & Phoenix: YAY ALIENS! :D

Razer: … when I wake screaming in the night, you will be the first one I kill, Mar.

/

Dax: Jaaaak, your ferret's watching me!

Jak: So? He's an animal. He has no higher thought processes. It's not like he's judging you.

Killer: / I am judging you so hard right now, skinny human. You're in the dominant position and you're not even dragging him around by the neck! Come on, bite his head! /

Dax: … it's getting really creepy.

Killer: / Mating fail, humans. No wonder you've been doing this for months and you still haven't managed to reproduce yet. /

/


	26. Chapter 26

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. (Except for Neva, who I borrowed from Grimreaperchibi.)

* * *

><p>"And that'll just about do it for today. Great job, everybody! Keep working on those websites, and don't forget that next week is your first test." The projection screen went blue as Professor Vin disconnected his laptop. "Ms. Saga, could you please hit the lights?"<p>

As the lights came up over the lecture hall and conversations began to buzz once more, Jak gave a stretch in his small, hard chair. Unlike Daxter, the quarterback just wasn't built for the space-conserving lecture hall seating. As interesting as Vin's lectures were, he vastly preferred smaller classrooms with desks.

At the end of January, almost a month into the new semester, everyone seemed to have settled back into the routine. It was good to be back at Praxis Hall with their friends, even Torn and Jinx. Having three classes with Daxter and two with Phoenix as well made academics infinitely more enjoyable, and Razer… well, Razer was still Razer, which was somehow comforting in and of itself.

All in all, Jak was more than satisfied with life.

Leaning down to grab his backpack, he was elbowed by Phoenix.

"Hey, Jak, check your phone. Coach just sent us a group text."

The green-blonde flicked it out of silent mode, a habit during class time. "Who, the whole team?"

"No, just you and I. He wants us to meet him at the rec center after class. Are you free?"

"I am, but I don't know if Daxter—" Jak glanced up. The seat on his opposite side was empty. "Hey, where'd Dax go?" He scanned the groups of students filing out of the lecture room.

Phoenix chuckled as he shrugged into his coat. "Where else? Pulling the tiger's tail."

Jak huffed. Sure enough, there was the redhead, already wearing coat and backpack, trailing after the class's graduate assistant as she gathered the wires and connectors of the projection system. Predictably, she looked less than pleased.

Sighing, the quarterback gathered his belongings. "Come on, let's run interception before he drives her to hacking and crashing his tablet again."

According to Vin's introduction on the first day of class, his GA's official name was Neva Saga. Since then, Jak had heard more than one upperclassman address her as Nevermore; undoubtedly poetic, if a bit strange for a given name. But nickname or not, just as belladonna was poetic deadly nightshade, both football players had quickly concluded that Nevermore Saga wasn't someone to cross lightly.

Vin's right hand researcher, she was always composed, in class and out. Jak, however, privately figured that anyone who wore that much leather and mesh on a daily basis warranted a warier approach, and anyone with ears so drastically cropped wasn't someone he planned to provoke if he could avoid it. If she'd survived an accident or an attack, she was a fighter. And if she'd chopped the delicate points of her own free will just to make a statement, then no one on the gridiron could come close to that level of badassery.

Daxter, however, hadn't seemed to get the same memo.

"So, how was yer date last night?" Jak heard him ask as they neared the bottom of the steps.

Neva, obviously maxing out on her daily dose of Daxter, glared flatly and smoothed down the longer shock of hair that hung down over the right side of her face. "You do have two functioning ears attached to your head, yeah? So how many times do I have to tell you before it sinks in that two people sharing a pizza is two people sharing a pizza? Correlation doesn't always indicate causation."

The redhead crossed his arms stubbornly. "Look, all I'm sayin' is I've worked in the place long enough to know when somebody's just really enjoyin' that slice of pepperoni and when they're starin' at their crush over the breadstick basket, okay? Besides, you two make a pretty cute couple, if I do say so myself."

Jak clapped a firm hand on his roommate's shoulder before the GA, who wore a look that warred between murder and mortification, could move to strangle him with the cables she still held. "Dax, if she says it wasn't a date, it wasn't a date."

Phoenix nodded in agreement. "Besides," he added, lowering his voice pointedly, "if it had been a date, then Professor Vin and Ms. Saga could get in a bit of trouble, because faculty aren't allowed to be romantically involved with students, even masters' level ones. You wouldn't want to say anything that could cause them problems, right Daxter?"

"At least someone on this campus has a working brain," she muttered.

"Forbidden love, huh?" Daxter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That's tough. Okay, don't worry about it—come in any time ya want and I'll totally lie to all the people who think you're on a date."

She bared her teeth. "I will never set foot in that establishment again."

"Ooh, ooh, I know!" The redhead seemed not to have heard her. "You should come in on Valentines Day! It's only a couple weeks off. I'll make you lovebirds a heart-shaped pizza, no extra charge!"

Neva bristled. The cord she was winding snapped taunt in a white knuckled grip.

Heeding the warning signs, Jak grabbed his roommate by the backpack strap and began to walk. "Come on, matchmaker. Sig wants to see me and Phoenix. Want to go to the rec center with us?"

Thankfully, he came without a struggle. "Yeah, sure. Why not? I got the afternoon free."

As the trio filed out the door, Vin waved cheerfully. "Have a nice day, boys. And say hello to your coach for me, if you would. Tell him he's in charge of snacks on Top Gear night this week."

"Can do, professor." Phoenix gave a two-fingered salute as they trooped into the hall.

Jak's last glimpse was of Vin plucking at one of the cords his ruffled grad assistant had dumped on his desk. "Darn. Another one? These connectors fray so easily…"

- / - / - / - / -

The rec center, Daxter realized somewhat dazedly, was absolutely massive. He trailed Jak and Phoenix as they made their way through the structure, seeming to know exactly where they were going in the melee of athletic activity.

A large, glass-walled room full of treadmills, weights, and other exercise paraphernalia bordered the entrance they had come in and looked out over the sidewalk outside. Up a set of stairs a suspended jogging track circled over a conglomeration of recreational basketball courts. The next hall they took sported large plate-glass windows along one side that looked down on an indoor soccer field and rock climbing wall.

"Sheesh, is there anything they don't have in here?" Dax asked, only half joking, as they passed through a set of double doors and down a hallway that ran through open air. From below the chest-high walls the sound of volleyball matches and racquetball battles echoed up.

Jak pondered. "Well… The stadium, of course. And the tennis courts are outside."

"And there's no hockey rink," Phoenix put in. "The blokes from up north gripe about it all the time."

Left. Right. Right. Left. More hallways. They passed dance and yoga studios and the entrance that marked the beginning of the Health and Wellness building where the classrooms and labs that catered exercise science majors were housed.

"We're close," Jak promised. "The basketball arena's up ahead, and the coaches' and athletic directors' offices are down the hall that connects this building to the arena concourse."

"Great. I was starting to think we were gonna go in circles in here fer days an' die of starvation."

Phoenix scoffed. "We would never. There's a Subway."

Daxter threw his hands up, entirely done. "Okay, why did no one ever see fit ta tell me there's an entire jockly ecosystem growin' on this end of campus?! Once there's a food source they get totally self-sufficient! Why enable these poor creatures to spend their lives trapped in this labyrinth of fitness, Jak? Why?"

"So you could freak out about where everybody's tuition fees actually go when you finally saw the rec center, of course."

The redhead rolled his eyes at the football players' sniggers. "Yeah, you laugh. One'a these days the denizens of this place are gonna figure out what huge fake jocks you guys really are an' sacrifice you ta their dodge ball gods. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Just as Daxter caught a glimpse of the massive arena concourse "Gate 1" sign through the archway at the far end of a long, long hall of office doors, they came to one with Sig's nameplate.

The room's occupant was treating himself to a meatball marinara.

Catching sight of the football players, the coach beckoned them inside with half the sandwich. "Hey there, chili peppers! Come on in." He seemed even happier to see their tagalong. "Well, if it isn't Daxter! Long time no see, cherry."

"Hey. I'm not gonna be in the way or anything, am I?" Daxter asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Of course not." What was left of the sandwich waved imperiously before disappearing with a satisfied chomp. "Mmm, that's delicious. Get in here, pull up a chair." Sig quickly wiped his mouth and cleared his desk of the remains of his lunch. "I'm glad to see you're still keeping Jak in line. Love it when my players make good friends outside the team. Keeps 'em grounded in reality."

Reassured, the redhead snickered evilly. "I keep him in line, alright. You can count on me."

Jak rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"So what did you want to talk to us about, Coach?" Phoenix asked as they pushed chairs in a semicircle around his desk.

"Yer not kickin' 'em off the team, are ya?" Daxter asked. "Cause I gotta say, Jak might be able ta squeak by without that football scholarship, but Phoenix's roommate is gonna be real unhappy if his best pal loses his student visa and gets shipped away back ta Aussie Land." He prudently ducked the swat sent his way by the running back and grinned.

Sig laughed loudly. "Not hardly. If I lose these two before they graduate I might as well turn in my resignation." He steepled his fingers and managed to look a little more serious. "What I wanted to ask you was: Do either of you two currently have a job?"

Jak's ears perked in interest as Phoenix silently shook his head. "No, but I've been thinking about looking for one. Did you have something in mind?"

"I was hoping you'd say that. And as a matter of fact, I do." With a flourish, Sig pulled two uniform polos out of a desk drawer and plopped them onto his players' laps. STAFF was emblazoned across them. "Just so happens a lot of our rec center student assistants graduated this past December. We've been able to replace a few, but what we really need are some kids who know the complex, how it works, where everything is, and have enough athletic knowledge to recognize when somebody's about to kill themselves hamming it up on equipment they don't know how to use. Of course," he continued as the boys shook out the shirts, "this would be on a trial basis for the first month or so to make sure it doesn't interfere with your grades, and we'd have to reevaluate next fall during the season, but if you're interested in giving it a shot I can make sure you get on."

Phoenix looked up, a calculating glint in his eye. "Would we get walkie-talkies?"

Very solemnly, the coach nodded. "Damn straight you'd get walkie-talkies."

Daxter moaned into his hands as the football players whooped with excitement and high-fived. "Sig, dude—yer High Coachlyness— respectfully, where the hell were you when I was lookin' fer a cool job?!"

- / - / - / - / -

"Seriously, what's so great about walkie-talkies, anyway?" the redhead huffed around his straw. "That's what texting is for. We have the technology, guys."

"If we have to explain it, you'll never understand," Phoenix intoned somberly.

Jak chuckled, crumpled his sandwich wrapper, and landed it perfectly in the nearest trashcan.

They had decided to stop at the Subway for lunch before leaving the complex. The rest of the afternoon would be a scramble. The three still had a math class together before going their separate ways, Daxter to work and the football players to the student employment office to apply for the rec center positions.

Jak fingered the yellow sheet of paper that Sig had given him. He and Phoenix were supposed to turn the papers in, fill out a bunch of forms, and that would supposedly be that. They would both still have to do a small interview with the coach and another one of the head honcho supervisors, but Sig had assured them that step was mostly a formality; they'd been hand picking rec center staff off the various athletic organizations for years.

He was still a bit surprised and flattered that Sig had recommended him for what was essentially a mid-level supervisory job. It couldn't have come at a better time, either. Not that he necessarily needed employment—his football scholarship paid room and board with more than enough left over for books and student fees—but it would be nice to have spending money without relying on Uncle to send a little cash once a month for gas and entertainment.

Breaking into his musings, Daxter finished his drink with a loud slurp. "I guess we better get goin'," the redhead sighed reluctantly. "Class starts in twenty minutes." He slipped off his stool and stretched, arms over his head, limber back arched in a completely innocent fashion that immediately made the quarterback think dirty thoughts.

Jak cleared his throat and prudently looked elsewhere. "Yeah, probably."

"Then follow me," Phoenix said with a flourish, "to the exit closest to the maths building. I know how eager you are to get there and start dividing by zero, Daxter."

"Bite me, football boy."

The route Phoenix led them by wound through more endless hallways that abruptly ended in a steep slope downward. At the bottom of the ramp, the hallway veered a sharp left and began to curve, bowing out into large floor-to-ceiling windows on one side and locker room doors on the other.

Daxter sniffed the humid air suspiciously. "Do I smell chlorine?"

"Got it in one." Phoenix stopped, clapping a hand against the concave, painted concrete of the wall. "We're right on top of the pool. The swim lockers are on the other side of this wall."

"There's a pool?" The redhead's ears went up. "Can we see it?"

Jak smiled despite himself. He hadn't expected his roommate to be interested in the pool; Dax hadn't asked to get a closer look at any of the other sports areas they'd passed. "Sure, we can look real quick."

The locker rooms used by the collegiate swim teams were, unsurprisingly, off limits. The lockers used by all the other members of the student body, however, were deserted but unlocked. The three filed in, Phoenix in the lead.

"Razer likes to swim laps for exercise sometimes while it's icy and he has trouble jogging," the running back explained as they passed rows of lockers, benches, and curtained shower stalls. "The pool opens every day for lap swimming, and then on the weekends when there're no swim meets, it's open for free swim. Have a look." As they passed through the small rinse-off chamber full of shower heads and drains, he nudged Daxter to the front.

There were no doors separating the locker rooms from the cavernous expanse of the swimming pool—only a roll top security door of metal bars pulled down over the doorway while the pool was closed. Daxter latched onto the bars with both hands, gawking in wonder at the sheer size of the room. "Wow…"

"Bigger than the high school pool, huh?" Jak laughed.

"I think the _bleachers_ in there are bigger than our high school pool!"

The quarterback had to admit the view was impressive. Weak winter sunlight from the high windows glinted on the still, mirror-like surface of the water. The roped buoys that marked the lanes floated peacefully. He glanced down at Daxter. "Do you like to swim?"

Daxter nodded, eyes not leaving the glimmering water. "Yeah, I love it."

"Brilliant! We should all go to open swim sometime," Phoenix said brightly. "I'm excellent at water volleyball."

The redhead's ears fell immediately. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Maybe." When he looked back to the pool, he was frowning.

Jak had an idea, from the sudden defensive hunch of his friend's shoulders, what the problem was. He opened his mouth for a reassurance… then remembered Phoenix and thought better of it. "Come on you guys," he said instead, effectively changing the subject. "We better go. Class starts in ten minutes."

Daxter gave a barely-audible but somehow regretful huff and let his hands slip from the bars. "Lead on, o fakest of the fake jocks. The sooner we get this math over with the sooner I can go get hit in the face with garlic bread."

As they left the locker room behind and traded warm, humid air for dry, cuttingly cold January wind, Jak made a mental note to revisit the last few minutes in conversation. Preferably when his redhead was in an un-mathematical environment.

- / - / - / - / -

When Daxter came home from work that night he had a song in his heart and a plastic shopping bag swinging happily from one hand.

"Hey, Jakkie-boy! Check out this sweet loot!"

The quarterback looked up from his homework as Daxter kicked off his shoes, dropped his coat over the back of his desk chair, and dove into the bottom bunk. "Should I be afraid?"

"Only if ya don't want a share of this delicious sugary goodness." He upended the bag, letting a glorious conglomeration of wrapped chocolates, suckers, and candies pour across Jak's blankets.

Green brows rose. "Whoa. Where'd you get the diabetic coma in the making?"

"Taryn gave it to me." He preened, tugging the wrapper off a heart-shaped sucker. "There's a bowl on the counter by the register until V-Day and she gave me the overflow. I think she's hopin' the sugar rush'll make me sweep the floors faster."

Jak laughed and caught the chocolate Daxter tossed him. "I'd believe an ulterior motive before I'd believe she gave you all that as a gift." The sweet was unwrapped thoughtfully. "How's she doing, anyway?"

"Oh, y'know. Same ol' same ol'." He rolled his eyes and rolled the sucker around the inside of his mouth. Mmm. Cherry. "Her cast's still on, but she can do almost everything again. Another month an' she'll be out of it, slinging dough all over the place."

"I bet she really appreciates how much help you've been the past few weeks. Not a lot of part time employees with full college course loads would volunteer to take the manager's place."

Daxter snorted dismissively. "Yeah, sure. She appreciates me so much she gave me the evening shift on Valentine's Day. The most smooshy-gooshy romantic day of the year, they day _everybody_ with a date goes out ta eat on, _and_ a Saturday night this year on top'a that? I won't get home 'til midnight, you watch."

Not that he'd had any concrete plans for the night, per se, but he'd been hoping to bribe Jak out of a back rub and an orgasm or two. As long as the quarterback didn't think it was too weird to ask for on a day that was explicitly set aside for romantic couples. They weren't dating, after all—they were just friends.

_Just friends_, he sighed, shuffling a scoop of candy back into the bag. _Oh well. Bein' boyfriends couldn't be that much better than what we got now… could it?_

"Yeah? That sucks." Jak sat down backwards in his chair, arms folded across its back. "I was hoping we could do something that night."

The redhead glanced up suspiciously. "Like what? We ain't exactly a couple. But if you want matching sweaters and a dozen roses you gotta give me a heads up so I can prepare."

"I would never ask for roses. They're much too expensive. I expect lilies." Jak snickered. "But seriously, best friends can totally do stuff together on Valentine's Day. Keira and I did every year."

"Yeah, well, you two looked like a couple. A hot couple. Nobody looked at you funny," he whined.

"I'm not saying we need to go out for a candlelight dinner and share a tiramisu. I just thought it'd be nice if we hung out and did something together. Something fun we don't usually do. Because Valentine's Day is about showing people who are special to you that you care about them, right? And I… you're my best friend and you're special and I care about you sort of a lot…" The green-blonde hunched up in his chair, rubbing at his upper arm and looking beseechingly anywhere but at his roommate as his face and ears turned red.

Only the effort it took not to bust out laughing at Jak's blunder smack into an obviously unplanned and thoroughly embarrassing admission kept Daxter from gawking and stammering horribly. He made it through with a nervous giggle, his own cheeks glowing, and ran a hand through his after-work hat hair self-consciously. "Well. Uh. Yeah. Sure. M-me too. I mean, uh, you too. So—what were you thinkin'?"

Looking glad to move on, Jak cleared his throat. "You said the fourteenth is on a Saturday, right? Saturdays are open swim at the pool. I was going to say we should go swimming."

Daxter's ears instantly sank. "Swimming? Why swimming? How about bowling? Or floor hockey!"

Jak, chin propped on his arms, looked at him with those blue, blue eyes. "I thought you said today you love to swim."

"Well, yeah. I do. I mean, I did." The redhead shrugged uncomfortably. "You know how it is."

"Tell me?"

He crunched loudly through his sucker at the soft prompt. "Ain't nothin' ta tell. I loved goin' swimming when I was a kid—what kid doesn't? Then I got older, the kids around me got older. Everybody started noticing. Lookin' at me, starin' at my back, askin' me what happened and what was wrong with me. It got not worth it real quick."

"But you swam in high school gym?" Jak pressed.

"I swam in high school gym because if I didn't swim, I didn't pass the class. Didn't have much of a choice. It was definitely not fun."

"That's what I figured. Just had to ask." Jak stood and flipped his chair the right way around.

"Sorry, big guy." Candy repacked, he surged up from the bunk and rested one more foil-wrapped chocolate on the edge of his friend's desk; a small, insignificant peace offering. "If it was just you an' me… maybe Phoenix, he's not a bad dude… then I'd go swimming with ya."

The quarterback chucked him gently on the shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. I had a feeling that's what the matter was earlier when Phoenix brought it up. You don't have to be sorry." Jak smiled and popped the chocolate into his mouth. "Someday we'll just have to make sure we all get to swim someplace private."

It was hard to stay blue when the fake jock smiled, so Daxter answered it with a crooked one of his own. "Okay. Cool. And since renting a private pool for the evenin' probably ain't an option, just surprise me with somethin' on V-Day, okay?"

Jak's only response was a stare.

"Uh, it that okay? Jak?"

Slowly, the quarterback nodded, but the intensity of his gaze didn't lessen. "Surprise you. Okay. Got it."

"Great." Giving his friend a last confused glance, the redhead tucked his bag of candy in a desk drawer. It had to last until the red and pink candy aisles went on sale February fifteenth. "I'm gonna go get a shower. Think you'd be up ta lookin' over my math assignment after while?"

"Sure." Seeming to shake himself out of whatever zone he had temporarily been caught in, Jak smirked. "If you give me more candy."

"Seriously? How old are you?" With a snort, Daxter reached for the drawer with the sugar. "Mooch. Why didn't you say somethin' before I put it away—?" But when he turned back, peanut butter cup in hand, lips ambushed his own.

The kiss was quick and light, almost a chaste peck; definitely not the stuff to begin sloppy makeouts, it barely mingled the chocolate and cherry of their mouths. Then Jak pulled away with a contented hum and a mischievous smile.

"Not ta sound ungrateful for spontaneous smooches, but what was that for?" Dax asked, slightly embarrassed.

"No reason. You're tiny and you smell like pizza."

"Gee, ya think?" With a roll of his eyes, the redhead pushed away and began to gather his shower gear. "Alright, I'm out'a here before you start gettin' ideas and chewin' on me. Sheesh, somebody should send a memo ta the fragrance company: make pizza-scented perfume, attract perpetually hungry football players like bees to a trashcan!"

As he shrugged out of his uniform and into his robe, though, he couldn't help but think the night had been a success. Free candy, Jak wasn't upset with him, and against all odds he still had a shot at goodies on Valentine's. What could be better than that?

- / - / - / - / -

The moment Daxter left for the showers, Jak counted to twenty and followed him out. He didn't head to the bathroom, however, but to the room next door.

"Phoenix!" he yelled, knocking firmly. "I need to talk to you." He only had ten minutes, max, before Daxter finished washing up and wanted in on whatever they were talking about. "Uh, right now? Please?"

"Alright, alright!" The door swung open. Phoenix stood, bemused, hair hanging loose and bedecked in a pair of holey sleep pants. "What's the rush, mate?"

Through the doorway, Jak could see Razer working at his desk. The older transfer student had on a pair of expensive looking headphones and seemed to be deeply immersed in his studies, to the point that he hadn't even noticed Jak was there, but there was no sense taking chances they'd be overheard. Not with what he was about to propose.

The quarterback cleared his throat. "I need to ask you something." He looked meaningfully at Razer's oblivious back. "But not here."

Phoenix stared, arm resting solidly against the door frame. "Good lord. Who have you killed?"

"Just come on. This is kind of important."

With a sigh, Phoenix doubled back into the room and tapped Razer on the shoulder. "I'm stepping out for a tick. Be right back," he assured at his roommate's quizzical look.

His friend's attention firmly secured, Jak led the way back to his own empty room. Pausing only to make sure Daxter hadn't returned, he tugged Phoenix inside and shut the door behind them. "Okay, I'll make this short and sweet." He gave the running back his most serious stare. "I'm going to break into the pool and I need your help."

Phoenix returned the stare. "The pool. The campus pool. The pool we looked at today."

"Yes. That pool."

"Right. Enlighten me, if you would. How do you propose to break into the pool, and why are you going to do it?"

"Okay. Hear me out." Jak steepled his hands. "You saw the cabinet behind Sig's desk today, right, the one that's full of key rings? All the hooks are labeled—there's one in there for the pool. All I need you to do is be my lookout. When Sig leaves his office, I'll borrow the pool key and substitute one of the keys off our employee rings. Simple. I'll have it back the next morning before he even notices."

The Aussie looked skeptical. "So, let me get this straight. Despite the fact that there's no actual breaking in involved, you want to gain access to the pool when you shouldn't, do dubiously acceptable things therein, and in doing so jeopardize a job that, technically, you don't even officially have yet. And you want me to help you do this."

"No vandalism or murder involved," Jak assured with his most winning smile.

"Why?!"

Of course his teammate was going to demand to know that. Jak sighed, weighed his options, and came to a decision. "I can't tell you. Yet," he amended hastily as Phoenix opened his mouth to protest. "But I promise I'll tell you. After we do it."

Phoenix looked at him, hard, as the silence stretched between them. "Alright," the running back said finally. "Heaven help me, Mar, but I'll help you. If you get busted, I had nothing to do with it. And you will tell me what's got you up to this the moment you've achieved what you set out to."

"Deal." Jak thrust out his hand, and the agreement was sealed with a firm shake. "I owe you one."

"So when are we doing this?" Phoenix asked.

"Hopefully, the fourteenth."

Realization dawned. "Valentine's?"

The green-blonde nodded firmly. "Not a word. Not to Razer, and especially not to Daxter."

Phoenix's grin was huge. "Oh wow, this must really be something if you don't even want Daxter to know about it. Poor little blighter can't keep his mouth shut very well, can he?"

"He has a little trouble with that, yeah." Jak fought back a smile of his own; if only Phoenix knew.

Well, Phoenix would know, in just a few short weeks. But Jak had known the other long enough to consider him a close friend, and he was confident that he could trust his teammate to keep the secret of just who was warming the quarterback's bunk on the down low when he did find out.

"I suppose I'd better get back to my essay. It won't write itself, much as I wish it would. Text if you need anything, Jak, and we can reconvene on your Mission Impossible plans when it gets closer to time, yeah?"

"Sounds good. Thanks again, Phoenix."

The other student took his leave. Left alone again, if only for the moment, Jak let Killer out for his nightly run and looked again at his own homework assignments, but his mind was a million miles away. If he could pull this stunt off, it would be truly spectacular. Now all he had to do was hope all the components fell correctly into place…

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued.

Outtakes!

/

Sig: I want to offer you two a job.

Phoenix: That's great! What will we have to do?

Sig: Mostly you'll be handing out towels. You'll need to not have shirts on while you do this. And if you could flex occasionally that would really be great. It'll really keep up morale around here.

Jak: Now maybe I'm just missing something, but that kind of sounds like a huge waste of our potential, don't you think?

Daxter: Now Jak, let's not be too hasty, here. I think this job opportunity has loads of potential!

Jak: Whose side are you on, anyway?

/

Jak: So you're saying you'd swim with me if we were alone?

Dax: Sure I would. Maybe even with Phoenix.

Jak: I may be able to arrange that.

Dax: What, bring him with us next time we're at your uncle's place? Hey, yeah, he could totally fit in that shower with us!

Jak: I'm going to pretend for the sake of my ego you're not serious about this.

/

Jak: I need help breaking into the pool.

Phoenix: Why come to me with the illegal activities?

Jak: Come on. I helped you steal Razer's clothes.

Phoenix: Yeah, but we didn't get bodily fluids all over them. Have some decency, man, people swim in that water!

Jak: That's totally what chlorine is for and you know it.

/


End file.
